


More Than You

by starfish_prime



Category: RWBY
Genre: Attempted Rape, Beehaw, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, blake is a useless bisexual, gunslinger yang, settler blake
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-03-30 23:25:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19037668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfish_prime/pseuds/starfish_prime
Summary: Blake lives a newly settled life with her best friend, out from under an abusive thumb. Little did she know, a stranger saves her in more ways than she ever thought possible.*Tags and character intros will change as the story progresses.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up rewriting this one. It just didn’t feel right after I initially posted. Hopefully it’s better than the original :p

Texas weather in April felt just as it did in New Mexico except the air clung to her skin, imprisoned by the humidity without any chance of escape. Lands were flatter and the hills beyond the way paled in comparison to the mountains she saw all her life. The horizon westbound fell with gray sheets washing the green plains beyond the hills. 

This time of year was rich with rain until summer’s hottest month zeroes in. She was thankful for the dirty, yet wonderful, smell of promising rebirth filling her senses as she stood in awe, hair whipping around her face. Tucking loose strands behind her ear was a fruitless endeavor as the dark strands freed themselves with each gust. Still she tried.

Rebirth —  _change_ — tends to make her look back, regardless of trying to convince herself not to, at what she left behind. It was gone for a reason. Everything she had now was a chance at looking to a better and brighter future for herself. Picking up the shattered pieces of herself wasn’t easy but it was necessary for living. Although wanting to look back at what she lost, it was an inevitable tick but still she pushed herself in the right direction.

Of course she missed her parents. But yet she missed her mother most... the reason she was standing at all, tall and proud of what she overcame in what felt like a lifetime ago, now in this wide open field and accepting peace in her heart for what she fought through. She could now accept without apprehension — the weather looming in the distance as it crept up on her homestead. Her heart beat like thunder with an indomitable spirit.

Looking beyond herself, she spotted a lone rider in the distance, lethargic in pace and uncaring about the storm he was driving into. That’s the kind of life she wanted — carefree of fear. She couldn’t say she wasn’t scared for her life where she was now but the doubt this tranquility was truly a forever plateau hung over her like a lead weight held by a thread, ready to snap at any given moment.

The rider gave her hope that freedom was a choice and only she could take it. What she would give to leave her shadows and demons out of reach but they stayed behind her clutching what little of herself she had left. She sighed to herself and closed her eyes against the breeze, a slow exhale slipping past her lips and wished the rider the best of luck before introducing her golden eyes back to the weary distance.

She reached down for the bucket resting by her feet, swinging it lightly as she stepped across stones bulging from the top soil. A slight break in the clouds warmed her skin from the bright contact and indulged in what was given for the brief moment. Clouds were a reprieve from the unforgiving star above but sometimes she would take for granted the simple things in life she enjoyed.

The wooden bucket dangled at her side through her slow steps toward the stables, water shifting with gravity’s pull with the rise and fall of the sway. Her horse was waiting for her fresh batch of water as she did everyday. Another small pleasure she had: Gambol. She was there to take her from her homeland and was one of the few who never turned its back on her when she was heated down and broken.

Looking up from her view of the ground, the stable door opened and her red head friend came into her sight, her skin a few shades darker than her own and littered with freckles. The girl was definitely a breed of her own and her personality was unrivaled by many she knew from before. She was her best friend and secrets were never withheld between them even if they were life threatening... as it was Ilia who broke the news about her fate with the chieftain-apparent from another clan. A man who broke her spirit prior to the news.

Ilia kicked a few rocks as she made her way over, wiping her hands across the denim on her hips, “Good news. Gambol’s been shoed and seems to be in good spirits. I ended giving her an extra carrot for being so mellow. On the contrary, she has a lump on her shoulder that could be something worse over time but nothing too serious at the moment. Fresh water I see?” She held onto the straps of her overalls as she inspected the bucket then to her friend’s airy features.

“She’s probably wondering where her water is,” a chuckle painted her words as she slightly lifted the bucket waist level, “we both know how impatient she gets. And...” She met a set of dark gray eyes with a smile in her own, “Thank you for taking care of her. I-we appreciate it. A lot.”

“Blake, you know it’s not that big of a deal. I like being able to help you when you need it because I know you’d do the same for me.” She met the smile with her own that was enough to make the brunette turn away from the radiance. “Oh and I forgot to mention we’re running low on nails for the stable. I’m not sure if there’s enough to complete the roof and the hammer’s a few strokes away from flying off the handle.”

Blake looked past Ilia and to the haphazard stable that looked to come unglued by the day, “I suppose when you’re ready to make the trip into town we could go. Best to get it out of the way. Honestly doesn’t matter much to me.”

“You know me, I’m always ready to go to town. Maybe tomorrow, then? And hopefully Miss Valkyrie will have that fabric you ordered. I know you’ve been waiting for it,” Ilia followed Blake back to the stable, both keeping a light pace enough to not rush.

“Tomorrow it is, then. The rain should be gone by morning,” she spoke, looking at the rain creeping their way after thunder rolled across the waves of grass. The rider caught her eye once more, wishing she could offer him a safe place to hang his hat for a night.

A distinct rumble quaked the ground, Blake turning towards the sound. Hooves. Lots of them. Incoming horsemen destroying the ground they covered, panic rising in her lungs. Adam? Every nerve on edge made her lose grip on the bucket and on her senses, water soaking into every arid granule calling out.

This must’ve been a calling, death pushing his plan, to finish what she narrowly escaped from before settling miles outside the town of Sunny-Vale. Running from the inevitable, her tribe... Adam. She happened turn a simple flaw into a survivable skill, only leaving a shadow in her place.

“You think it’s him?” Ilia’s gray eyes, glazing over with the taste of reality. She had played an accessory in helping Blake escape love’s brutality hidden behind glacial blue eyes.

“If it  is  him, he’s gonna find himself in a dirt casket before he even thinks of taking me back — taking  us  back.” She rushed to the cabin, taking the aged, dry rotted wooden handle of her wood axe which easily showed its age with every rust ingrained scratch and nick along the blade. It wasn’t a weapon meant for a quick death but it would have to serve its purpose for her protection.

She swung the business end then caught the shaft in her left. These men were a reminder of why she left New Mexico. War, pillaging, destruction. She knew the price. She just never thought she would be on the receiving end.

“I'm gonna get the pitch fork!" Ilia shouted and ran for the stable, dust clouding behind her.

Anxiety pulsed heavily through her frost bitten veins watching Ilia leave her behind. Being alone even for a brief moment at a time like this began to sever all ropes she tied herself to the ground with. She was slipping in rapid measure, hands failing to hold onto the wood in her clutches then snapped back to the encroaching fury before her. They were on her land and they appeared to not slow their oncoming approach.

Hooves roared like a locomotive on the cusp of colliding with her but she wasn’t going to give in so easily regardless of her subconscious telling her to do so. Blake’s adrenaline and survival took full control. These weren’t Adam’s men or Adam himself by the colors they wore. There wasn’t any sign of red, no signs of an apocalypse. Only bandits wanting what little she had. And now she chided to herself  kill or be killed. It wasn’t just her anymore. It was her  and  Ilia.

When the first rider charged on her, she swung the dulled axe with all the strength she could muster, striking the horse in the chest. Blood spattered across her face and the axe was stripped away, embedded into the flesh and tendon of the beast. The moment it left her hands, she was defenseless. She rushed to her fallen weapon, wrenching it from the shrieking equestrian, holding it and trying not to drop the weapon and throw up. She held her composure and stood tall, blocking the furious sun out of the man’s dire brown eyes. She wanted to see his fear, wanted _feel_ it . Without a second thought, she inhaled a whirlwind through her nose and drove the axe into the man’s jaw, oblivious to the sound of crunching bone amongst the thunder in her ears. His body twitched and, in a split second, he was limp.

Before Blake could take her eyes away from the damage, screams of horror rang in the distance which drew her to see two men taking Ilia to the ground, pitch fork resting in against the rocks, completely out of reach. Trembling hands dislodged the axe from her victim’s face and she bolted to the distressed woman.

“Ilia!”

She was restrained and overpowered by an assailant, dropping the axe to her feet. Her flight instincts, blended with adrenaline, fought against brute strength which granted her short-lived freedom to rush over to her fallen friend. She had no idea how to take on two men three times her own weight with a failing axe. Her flight instincts kicked in and hurried over to them anyways, praying to a higher power for strength to overcome.

Nothing prepared her for being tackled and taken down, face in the dirt and catching what little air was viable for her shocked lungs. The stinging in her grinding cheek and throbbing skull forced her eyes closed and briefly lose control of what kept her solid to this point.

Screams from herself and Ilia were stunted against the phantoms. Blake stressed and mania overwhelmed her that she could no longer see Ilia from her line of sight but focusing on herself was priority at the moment. Arms flailed against the man, feet kicking at another.

“Get her, Grant!”

“I caint! She’s like a damn fish in a barrel!”

A slip up allowed the man to pin her arms above her head, giving the other the ability to access what he fought for. He settled himself between her legs where she couldn’t strike. His fumbling hands went for the button on his pants, to claim his spoils.

“No! Stop, please! Stop!” Blake writhed and pleaded to preserve her virtue but the man had no remorse for what he was about to take from her.

His hands ran under her petticoat and up her legs, reaching for what was hidden. “Shut your mouth and just take it!” His grasp was more forceful and held one of her legs down on the dirt and inched closer. She knew he was ready to take her in the most inhumane way possible.

She couldn’t help but cry when she could feel his skin coming in contact with hers. “Hurry up! I wanna shot at her too!”

Her assailant was almost inside her when the sounds of consecutive gunshots rang out causing her to flinch. One, two, three. The quick concession continued, mind drowning in the fear her life was near it’s end.

Death was the better option than being raped. “Kill me, please!” She whimpered, eyes closed tightly, accepting her fate.

“Get away from her!” The voice, unfamiliar and just, rang in her ears followed by rounds fired echoing in the wind. The man above her head fell followed by the man between her legs. Gold flashed in her peripheral and was gone before she sat up to view the damage.

“Ilia!” Blake rolled onto her side and saw Ilia in the dirt, two motionless bodies laying close by. “No, no, no...” From her vantage point there wasn’t a possible visual inspection to determine the life or death of her friend. Adrenaline wore thin, muscles shaking from distress. Her skirt fell to her feet as she rose, stumbling with locked muscles as she ran over. “Ilia?!” Another call. Nothing. She dropped to her knees, checking her body for trauma. Nothing. Light movement in her chest indicated life was still present.

Hands slapped the dark skin of Ilia’s cheek, stress whittling her constitution, “Wake up, Ilia! Wake up!” A moving figure in the direction of where the horsemen rode in from, caught her attention, fear surprisingly dissipates at the sight. A tall blonde, face behind a red bandana, nudged a corpse with a dusty boot. There was resistance in the body from what she could see. A gun was drawn, cocked and fired onto the skull. In a single motion, the silver slid back into the leather with skill.

Tears formed in her eyes turning back to her friend, “Ilia... please wake up...” she choked on a sob the more she took in the motionless body. She was breathing but had no clue whether or not she suffered from trauma to the head or somewhere she could spot off the bat.

Rocks crunched as the steps drew closer to her and Ilia, body rigid with fear of the unknown. “She’ll be alright, lassie. Just passed out is all.” A thin accent stained the strangers voice, dynamite chipping away at the wall of mistrust.

A woman. What was she doing all the way out here? Polished guns hung in their leather holsters dangling as she kneeled beside the incapacitated young woman.

A squint expressed the danger was over. Violet eyes, dangerous and soothing, yet somehow peaceful and trusting, were surrounded by stray soil and sweat. They seemed to be more verbal than her own tongue. Gloved fingers tugged the fabric hanging past her chin, exposing the pale skin of her cheeks, pink lips, untouched by the earth unlike her eyes.

“She’s in shock. Probably best we get her out the rain.” Blake was oblivious to the rain spatter gracing her dry skin.

Blake’s nod was more out of reaction than comprehension, “Yeah.” She blanked out then looked back to her savior. “Yeah, let’s get her inside.”

The stranger moved over to the young woman’s head, adjusting herself and leaned over, “Hold her legs. I’ll get her arms.” The blonde’ hands dug through the soil under the smaller woman’s shoulder blades to her underarms, holding tight as she stood barely showing any form of weakness.

Blake did as instructed, guiding them towards the cabin. Rain steadied its fall as it progressively touched her skin and dampened her hair more than what she would’ve preferred but now wasn’t the time to worry. The song of the rain helped her calm the nerves that electrified her system from moments ago. Her heart still rushed and her limbs were numb.

She lead them up the hollow wooden steps into the cabin. Once she opened the swinging door, stagnant and stale air hit her as quickly as the rust from outside did. It was a better odor inside than out but still her stomach roiled from the quick change in environment. The smell from outside followed them in regardless of her distaste of curdling iron.

The blonde went straight to the wool mattress, lightly setting the girl into position. Black hat plucked from her head, she fanned at the sweat in an attempt to cool Ilia down, “She got it bad. I’ve never seen someone passed out this long. Usually only for a few seconds. How are you doing, though? You’re as pale as a ghost.”

Blake stepped away from the two, unsure what she could do in the moment, mind shutting down with panic, “I’m alive but shaken. I don’t know what would’ve happened had you not shown up.”

The stranger slowed her ministrations, looking up to the woman, “I’m sorry you two had to go through that. Luckily I was nearby and got here in time.”

“Were... you the rider I saw earlier?”

“Suppose I was. I heard them comin’ and knew what was going to happen. I couldn’t turn a blind eye and let that happen to anyone. And knowing now that it was just you two, I dunno how I could’ve lived with myself if I let it happen,” she looked back down at the redhead beside her, fanning the sweat that covered Ilia.

“Thank you. Truly. I owe you my life,” Blake stepped forward, arm crossed over her torso as a defense mechanism. “What should I do to help?”

“There’s not much you can really do besides make her comfortable. A wet rag would be good if you have water to spare.” Her eyes studied Blake’s, seeing right through whatever facade she put up front. She knew the woman was scared and she had every right to be. “Don’t worry too much. She’s gonna be alright.”

Blake crossed the wooden floor as they sang under the stress of her weight, yanking an old rag from the nail it hung from and dropping it into the small bowl, hand dunking for better absorption. She looked back to the blonde woman fanning her friend. It was unexpected to have been saved by a random vigilante but she owed this woman her life.

She quickly wrung the towel as tight as possible before her hands ached and stepped over to the woman reaching for the rag. The woman took it, folded the cloth and set it on Ilia’s forehead then continued to fan the heated skin.

Silence drifted between them, both attentive to the incapacitated Ilia. Blake felt foolish that a stranger had more control over the situation than she did but knew she was useless in the way her body struggled to cooperate with her brain. Her mouth opened a few times, failing to speak to her savior. She mustered the courage as the minutes passed through observance, “What’s your name? Just so I don’t have to consider you a stranger.”

“Name’s Yang,” she never took her attention off the girl. “And yourself?”

“Blake. And this is Ilia,” she pulled up a chair and sat down across from her newly acquainted friend, hands in her lap.

Yang flashed her a genuinely bright smile, “Nice to meet you, Blake.” She ungloved her hand, strong fingers outstretched for Blake to accept, “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Blake.” Playfulness sugared her words once they rolled from her tongue.

Blake accepted the hand, tight lips fighting a smile, grip taking hers and a slight shake sealed their formalities. “Likewise.”

“I don’t see a gun hanging around here or anywhere for that matter. What are you two doing out here unarmed? You should know the dangers on the homestead.”

Blake had a sheepish look in her eyes when Yang mentioned being unable to basically protect themselves

“I can—“

 

She cut Blake off a second time, rising to her feet, “You  can  try but you can’t. How were you planning to take out six men with an axe and not expect to get yourself killed?  She  had  _no_   chance. I saw it. You need something to shoot mother fuckers like that and kill ‘em on the spot.” The accent was a deeper shade of Scottish. Irish, maybe? Blake was never good with deciphering between the two nationalities.

She stood silent, clinging to the truth behind the words. She was right. They would’ve died without the vigilantes intervention. She needed a gun despite her past trauma and the only way to move away from her past was to move forward. Blake released the breath she held. Her chin tilted up to take in the full height before her.  ‘ _She’s so tall_.’  Even her own mind could keep from pointing out the obvious.

“You’re right,” it was the only thing she managed to say, hushed and fallen. “You’re completely right. We’d be dead if it weren’t for you... Maybe death would’ve been a better way than having to worry about survival.”

The woman was silent, glaring at the floorboards at her feet. She didn’t intend to deflate the woman in her own home. She knew Blake was already going through her own emotions. “Don’t say you should’ve died. No one deserves that. Just because you’re running from something, doesn’t mean you should die.“

Golden eyes leered at the blonde woman by the accurate assumptions made, “I’m not running from _anything_.”

A laugh. Short yet effective. “I can tell you don’t have a husband because you’re hand is missing a ring. There’s two cups on this table, not a third...” She took Blake’s right hand, palm side up, fingers trailing the prominent callouses residing along the crook of her thumb, “You swing an axe. That should be a man’s job.”

Blake couldn’t help but display shock on her face that this stranger could observe so little but know so much, “Honestly, I don’t want to talk about this.” She took her hand back slowly, the touch lingering in her nerves, branding into her skin.

“Maybe for another day then.”

“Yeah... sure.” Her past made itself evident on her face with a crease between her brows. She was sure the stranger might have assumptions about the sensitive subject but like she said, maybe for another day.

~~~~~

The sun drifted down to the hills, sending the land a bright orange farewell until the next day. Ilia had awoken calmly with little memory of what happened but the second she saw Yang, panic set in. Blake’s calming words did little to prove Yang wasn’t part of the bandits but was the person who single-handedly took the men down.

“I should get goin’. Night’s falling fast and I need to cover as much ground as possible,” Yang finished her drink then stood from her spot the table. Her hat placed back on her head, tipping it down in a kind gesture, “Pleasure to meet you both.” She retrieved her gun belt, needing to take it off to assure Ilia she was out of harm’s way and pushed open the door to greet the cool April air.

Blake got up from her seat to catch her before she made it to the stables. “Yang! Wait a second!” She slowed her pace as she tried not to slide across the fresh mud.

Yang turned just a few feet before making it to the weathered enclosure, confusion drawn on her brows, “Everything okay?”

Blake nodded in response, flattening out her skirt, “Why don’t you stay and join us for supper? I would feel better if you accepted.”

A crooked grin spread, eyes meeting expectant gold, “It’d be my pleasure.”

“Thank you,” Blake caught the contagious smile, returning one of her own. She turned back to the cabin, keeping the sounds of footsteps close to her ear.

“Why are you thankin’ me? I should be the one thankin’ you,” Yang began to undo her belt the closer they approached, letting one end fall to be caught in the other.

Blake hopped up the two steps to the deck, turning around to see Yang once more, a new hero in her story, “Obvious reasons. And for opening my eyes that I’m not untouchable. I thought being out here was going to keep us safe but as we found out, that’s not true at all.”

Yang fell silent trying to think of a comment but was at a loss. She followed Blake inside, laying the guns on the wooden planks by the door then shrugged her brown duster from her shoulders, hanging it from the most visible nail she found in the wall. Freedom from the extra weight almost let her feet leave the ground.

She observed Blake from afar, they way she moved, the mannerisms in her facial features, just to try and figure out what she meant about being safe. People run from different things as she found out on her own. There were flaws in her trail, hurting the ones she loved and being hurt in return. Maybe they weren’t as different as appeared to the eye. Her eyes were heavy enough with curiosity that she needed to take a seat at the table.

As the minutes passed and her eyes on the dark haired mystery, aromas hit her stomach full force. She was glad Blake didn’t want her to leave.  This  alone was worth the delay — not like she had anywhere to go. A home cooked meal was a rare occurrence being on horseback day-in-day-out. She hardly had the coin for a room and when she did, the meals were costly enough to weigh her options. Choosing to starve at the mercy of sleeping on a bed seemed like an unfair trade but it was what she had to do.

Conversation between Blake and Ilia was light and airy, jokes thrown, jabs taken. All Yang could do was sit and watch the show unfold as much as she wanted to chime in. Even if she remained silent with an amused smile, she learned more about the two women. Really, she wanted to know more about Blake.

~~~~~

The spoon fell onto the metal plate before she leaned back in her chair, both hands holding onto her uncomfortable stomach, “Oh lord, that was good. Thank you, ma’am, for this.”

Blake blinked at her from across the table, deadpanned expression burning into the blonde, “You don’t have to call me that, Yang. Blake is fine.”

“Sorry, ma— Blake. I don’t meet enough people in my travels to maintain formalities. I apologize in advance if I do it again,” Yang sat upright, working up a powerful burp.

“You’re perfectly fine. So I meant to ask you, where were you heading when you found us?”

Yang’s eyes cast to the empty plate, crease in her brow, “Just... as far away as I can. I have no destination in mind, no place on a map. I ride just to ride.”

Ilia looked over to Yang, attention drawn from what little she had left, “Really? You’re not heading for California? I heard the ranching business is booming right now.”

Yang fumbled at the rolled sleeves of her yellow and brown plaid shirt, “Nope. When I find the place I’m looking for, that’ll be where I’m heading to.”

Blake set her fork down, looking over to Ilia as if looking for the right thing to say. She cleared her throat then looked back to Yang, “So you’re not heading anywhere specific?” Yang shook her head no, amused look on her face. “I see.”

Amusement shifted to interest ay Blake’s last comment. She saw the wheels turning in her mind.

“I hope this isn’t asking too much but...” Blake had to regain her script before she completely butchered her proposition. The look Yang gave her implored her to continue, “You said I needed a gun earlier...”

“I did, yes,” her finger and thumb held her chin, intrigued by what Blake was leading to... if she ever got there.

“I’d be willing to pay you to stay and train us how to use one _properly_ . The coin should be enough to help you in your travels. Hopefully it would be enough for you to sleep on a comfy bed  and  have a meal the next morning.”

Yang was drawn to the prospect of having extra coin when she was used to throwing what little she earned into ammunition and a bed when given the opportunity. She sat there, idea seeping into her mind and growing more enticing with each second the air remained silent. Her eyes glanced to Ilia, who’s eager smile helped suede her, then to Blake. Golden eyes pleading, the story behind them entrapping her the most. There was a story, she knew for sure. Finding it was  her  goal. “How could I say no?”

~~~~~

Blake walked with Yang out to the stables, giving her a small tour of the property even if the moon was completely out. The kerosene lamp illuminated what the waning moon failed to.

“I’m sorry we don’t have a spare bed for you to sleep in.”

Yang opened the heavy door without a sign of struggle, holding it open out of respect, “Trust me, it’s nothin’ I’m not used to by now.”

 

_Trust me_ . Strangely enough she  did  trust her. It was impossible to think so but she was sure of it. “I hate that I’m offering you to stay here and you’re out here sleeping with the horses.”

 

“Don’t be. It’s dry compared to where I’d be sleepin’. I’d still be sleepin’ next to a horse though,” Yang tossed a lopsided grin at Blake while she untied the bedroll from the hanging saddle on the post. She took the rifle and shotgun from the holsters, keeping the shotgun for herself and holding the rifle to Blake. 

As she took it, her hands trembled at the thought of holding it, much less shooting if needed. Her fingers grazed Yang’s as she took the gun by the barrel. She unknowingly pointed the gun at Yang, who in return moved out of the way. Her hand rested on the barrel and pushed it down to the ground. “Okay, lesson number one: never point at somethin’ unless you’re gonna shoot. Point it up or down to the ground.”

Blake nodded her head, embarrassed by such a simple mistake, “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. I’m here to teach you, right? Now, hold onto that and keep it by your bedside. There’s four rounds loaded. All you need to do is move that lever down until you hear a click. That means its loaded. Pull it back up, aim and fire. Do that until you can’t fire no more.”

Blake nodded once more, gripping the rifle tight enough that the skin on her knuckles looked ready to split and expose the scars she held only for herself. Yang stepped into her aura, a gentle hand placed on her shoulder, “Everythin’s gonna be alright. If anyone were to come through here, I’ll be the first to know.”

“Yeah, okay,” the worry creased between her brows spoke the truth.

Yang took her hand back as if the contact burned her skin, “We should call it a night. It’s gonna be a long day tomorrow.”


	2. Chapter 2

Morning air was always coldest before dawn and when the faint burst of light blue appeared in the east, that was generally Blake’s time to rise. She couldn’t decide if it was the fact she went to bed at a decent hour or knowing her guest would be waiting for her, as the reason she tore herself away from her bed without hesitation.

She climbed down the ladder once she was ready, balancing a lamp and rifle on the way. Ilia still nestled under her thick hand spun blanket facing the wall cracked a smile on her lips knowing she was safe and unharmed.

The planks creaked when making her way to the door then looked back one more time before making her way into the calm, dusty air. When she took in the sights around her, the bodies from yesterday’s skirmish were gone, only dark spots of blood remained. Her brow creased then took flight toward the middle of the property as if she were to find something out of place, which she did.

Yang stood in the distance, absorbing the tranquility of mornings arrival, clad in her jeans, yellow and brown flannel shirt and what looked to be a tartan wrapped beneath her gun belt. So she was Scottish from what she could determine.

It was a welcome sight. She was thankful Yang didn’t leave though the night. Her word seemed as golden as the newly budding hope that filled her being.

She wet her lips and put out the lamp, sitting it on the ground by her feet. She padded across the rocks to meet with Yang, colors of the sun making solid hues more vivid in her yellow eyes. Hands clutched onto the fear implanted onto the wooden stock in her hands. Yang turned to the presence in her vicinity, flashing a smile drenching her lavender eyes. “Mattis va, Blake. Didn’t expect you out this early. Beautiful morning, yeah?”

Blake only nodded in agreement. The rifle loosened as she felt the worry disappear with Yang’s light words ringing through her ears, drowning out the rocks crunching under her boots. “What happened to the bodies? We could’ve helped you, you know.”

Yang shrugged, “Y’all had a pretty eventful day. Least I could do was take care of those bandits for you.”

“Thank you,” Blake replied now standing beside the gunslinger.

“You’re welcome.”

Silence surrounded them, both looking out to the sun peeking over the horizon, content in the others presence. It didn’t last long before Blake broke through it. “So where are you from? Your accent...”

“North Carolina. My father is a first generation from Scotland. My grandfather came from the motherland because of politics. There’s not much of a story around that.” A gleam of discomfort swirled in her features when she spoke. She looked over to Blake, the same sense of curiosity set. “What about you? Faunus aren’t well known in these parts.”

Completely taken aback, Blake stared at Yang. Transparency wasn’t what she expected in the short acquaintance, “I’m not—“

Yang’s disbelieving brow spoke more than words could, looking at the ribbon on her head, “Why else would you wear that unless you’ve got something to hide?”

She chewed on the inside of her mouth figuring out what she could say without giving too much to a practical stranger. “You’re on the run, huh?” A nod was all Blake could spare.

“Did someone hurt you?” Yang felt a shift in Blake’s energy when she spoke the words aloud, unaware she was right.

A heavy hand set on Blake’s slender shoulder, the touch almost felt too much but she accepted out of courtesy. It didn’t pull her under crashing waves, it didn’t hold her under when she reached to the sunlight for survival. This touch felt like a lifeline thrown out for her to swim ashore. Her lungs still felt heavy just thinking about speaking anything about her past. Although she did nothing wrong, everything added up like she did.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t‘ve brought it up,” Yang dropped her hand to her Remington revolver, thumb gliding over the polished wooden handle. “I’ll kill whoever it is if they come near you. All you have to do is say the word.”

“Thank you, Yang. Hopefully it won’t come down to that.”

 

~~~~~

Blake learned there was more to shooting a gun than just pulling a trigger. She underestimated the need for reading the sights on the barrel, her grip, her breathing. It was more than she expected in the beginning.

Yang stood beside her, hand inches away from her back in the event of recoil, “Take your time. Don’t close both eyes.”

Blake puffed in annoyance that she couldn’t get a clean shot of the bottle twenty yards away. After six rounds, she still couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn.

She was thankful Yang was patient enough to tolerate her gradual improvements. Every word she listened to and every tweak Yang expressed, was sweetened with patience. Something Blake had little of to begin with.

Yang’s hand rested on the backside of Blake’s, taking it in a firm grip to adjust her hand placement. The touch was light against her own skin, current flowing though her as the touch lingered. She wasn’t used to such soft contact. Yang’s fingers left her hand, trailing up the sleeve on her forearm and stopping right at the point of her elbow. She felt a slow push downward so it was pointing to the ground. The touch didn’t end there and the chills sank deeper into her skin. “Now,” Yang spoke just above a whisper, “breathe. Exhale and pull the trigger.”

Blake followed every command, wincing from the sound echoing against every surface possible, glass bottle shattering and sending bits of glass outward. Her eyes grew in awe, undeniably surprised she hit it. The gun lowered as she looked back at Yang, smile apparent on both faces. “I really hit that, right?”

“You sure did,” laughter peppering her words. “I knew you could do it.”

“It helps that I have a good teacher,” Blake couldn’t tell if her cheeks burned from the sun or if it was a blush.

Yang’s smile never faded, taking the gun from Blake, “Here, lemme show you how to reload.”

 

~~~~~

Blake felt like she could take on the world and Adam with it after hitting another three bottles. She was proud that she could actually put one foot forward toward the path of recovering mentally from the trauma she endured under his shadow. Now that she was free, she refused to let his memory take her prisoner.

The rifle she felt connected with, perched against the wall of the cabin and out of arms reach. Not that she needed it but a faint sense of security sat with it but it mostly resided with Yang nearby under a shade tree. She couldn’t disagree with taking a nap when the weather was still cool and not sticking to the skin.

She picked herself up from the steps she sat on and walked over to the resting blonde, intrigue laced with curiosity. There was so much she wanted to know about the woman who drifted so far from the Carolinas to where she was now: under her shade tree. She wanted to know everything — how she learned to shoot, her family, where she was  really  going... Questions piled slowly.

The temperature was drastically different under the shade and it made her understand why Yang was able to sleep so soundly. Blake lowered herself to the ground, leaning against the trunk of the large oak. The grass was soft underneath her causing her to follow Yang’s direction. She wasn’t used to feeling relaxed like this — looking over her shoulder became the norm in her everyday routine and it took Yang and her carefree nature to help lay that to rest.

“You lost?” Yang’s voice broke over the sound of swinging leaves. She sounded surprised by Blake’s presence, not intending to scare her off.

Blake’s muscles locked, unaware Yang could sense or hear her approach, “Not entirely. You made this shade tree look extremely comfortable.”

Yang kept her place, not moving an inch, “It’s your tree. You should enjoy it more often.”

_Enjoy_ _it_ . Easier said than done but, she was slowly learning how. She was learning how to let go. “You’re right, I should.”

“ _Now_ we're  making progress.”

 

~~~~~

 

After the hours of target practice and basic handling of the rifle, Yang called it quits for the next day. She made it clear she would continue lessons with her revolver, something Blake could keep close if she chose to get one down the road. Yang didn’t want her using one of the bandit’s weapons as it was a reminder of coming close to being six-feet under. 

Blake took a plate of fried chicken out to Yang, who seemed to be hypnotized to the mysticism of the setting sun. It was still visible, just barely making its acquaintance with the edge of the world, a layer of orange leaving Blake in a natural ‘awe’ from the vibrancy and texture she could feel in her soul.  This  was her favorite time of day. It was the conclusion to the hardships endured and the prologue to hopeful foresight for another.

Yang accepted with a simple thank you, hesitating to fully take it as if she were offering the invitation to join her. “You’re welcome.” Blake turned back into the house quicker than she expected to, feeling the rudeness as if were dished out to her. She stared at the plate in the kitchen, working the nerve to not be so reclusive and shy. If she wanted to eat outside with Yang, on her own property, she should be able to so without a second thought.

The blonde was interesting, to say the least. She learned small ticks throughout the day but that was just barely scratching the surface of it all. She honestly wanted to learn more, past the mild conversation. She figured Yang was shy — guarded, even — but there has to be a weakness in the wall she built.

She took the plate after several moments in debate and made her way out the door, sitting a few feet away from Yang. “How is it? I didn’t overlook it, did I?”

Mouth full, Yang shook her head in a very enthusiastic shake of her head. Blake felt silly asking a question she knew an obvious answer to. She could see from Yang’s plate that it was good enough to tear through. It was probably because she rarely got a home cooked meal unless she had coin and she could tell the woman hardly had any. “This is  really  good.” The fading glimmer of the sun bleeding into her lilac eyes threw Blake off her tracks, quickly turning to her own plate.

“Can I ask you something?” Eyes not leaving her plate, she waited for Yang to approve before spewing something that could possibly shut her out.

“Sure, what’s on your mind?” A crease between her tilted brows formed then took another bite.

“What _really_ brought  you all the way out here? ”

Yang’s chewing slowed as she took in Blake’s question, felt inquisitive eyes seared into her. Silence probably wasn’t the best answer, which would project more than what she could speak, “Sometimes running’s the best thing you can do.”

Blake set her plate on the wood beneath her, investing more time into what Yang might actually disclose. She never for a second turned her attention away from the grimace in Yang’s eyes. “My father was the reason I picked up a gun in the first place. When I was about five or six, my father developed a taste for the drink — something to subside the pain in his leg. It went from drinking enough to dull the pain to drinking to the point where he was completely numb. One day he scared me enough where I told him I’d shoot him dead. So I learned how to use one...”

Her plate laid beside Blake’s, the difference in appetite apparent and looked out to the golden waves of grass beyond, “It wasn’t until a year ago that he actually tried to kill me.” The sleeve on her right arm rolled up, showing a knotted scar diagonally flowing down from her forearm to the wrist, “After all the threats I made in self defense, the  one time I actually needed to defend myself, I run.” Blake saw the glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes but looked away for Yang to keep them to herself. “I-I’m sorry. Usually I don’t talk about it but I’m... just tired of running.”

“Don’t apologize, I’m glad you told me. Some things are better said than not. I’m so sorry you went through that. You didn’t deserve any of it and you deserve better. Hell, I’ve only known you for a day and I already know you’re a good person, Yang.”

“Am I though? You saw what I’m capable of.”

Blake smiled at her, brighter than the burning sky beyond, “You could’ve let us die if you were the kind of person you think you are.”

Yang crossed her arms, laying her elbows on her knees, “I hope I’m the person _you_ _think_ I  am.“ She looked over to her new friend and confidante, hesitant on creating eye contact. She knew her eyes were expressive but never understood the depth.

All Blake could do was smile at Yang, meeting lilac as if she were seeing them for the first time. They seemed... maroon regardless of the setting sun. Once Yang took in a hearty breath and exhaled, magic consumed them, integrating them back to the light purple she came to know.

“Your... eyes — they change color?” Mesmerized was an understatement to how she truly felt about them. Compelled to them, unaware that such tricks could be played with the most expressive part of the blonde.

She looked shocked that it even happened. Her fingers covered her eyes, embarrassment evident in her rigid posture, her accent thick and full, “I can’t believe you saw that...“

“I thought they looked... interesting.” Sure, that was one way to put it. Blake couldn’t admit aloud they were beautiful. Not to herself and definitely not to Yang.

The long fingers covering her face fell to her chin as if they were to wash away her conflict, “It only happens when I’m emotional but mostly when I’m pissed...”

“It’s really neat actually. You shouldn’t be embarrassed for who you are. I  thought  they looked different yesterday but after all that happened, I wasn’t so sure but... it’s good to know I wasn’t just seeing things,” an undeniable riptide crested in her chest the more she watched the woman and all her little mannerisms. It was hard to imagine this woman never existed in her life until the day prior and knowing she struggled throughout hers, she was glad they crossed paths.

“Yeah, until you’re claimed a hell spawn then it’s not so neat.”

It was obvious Yang didn’t get much of a reception with a trick like that and felt horrible that she had no iota of stability. Blessings come in disguise as what she learned, maybe she could be Yang’s, “If you want, you can stay here as long as you’d like. We can make room for you in the house, even if we need to build an extension. Ilia’s a pretty good carpenter and luckily I can swing a hammer.”

Yang chuckled at Blake’s response, shoulders losing the tension, “I feel sorry for that nail then. Your swing is pretty ruthless.”

“In all seriousness, I would like for you to stay. Not just because we could use the help around here but... having someone else around is nice, actually. If you’re willing, I’ll pay you for services rendered.” She saw the gears in Yang’s head turn by the crooked brow and the biting of her lip. “You don’t have to answer right away, just... whenever you’re ready.”

“No, save your money, I’ll stay.“


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This’n’s a little brief but hopefully it’s enough filler before things go a little nuts! Thank you to all those that have taken the time to read this. A little something goes a long way!

It took almost a week for Blake to adjust to the kick in the guns power, bruises in her shoulder fading from purple to a yellow hue. She felt proud of them, a mark of her courage to overcome a power pulling her down. The bruises were a reminder that she moved forward in her life instead of standing still with her feet in the mud. She was healing and that’s what mattered most to her.

Her aim was better but her speed still needed work. She was thankful Yang was patient when she stumbled reloading or fingers faulting at the hammer. Yang’s laughter helped with the pressure she felt she was under each time. In all honesty, she was thankful for Yang’s fluid nature.

Blake would watch from the deck as Yang would instruct Ilia, who seemed more of a natural with firearms, smiling when her friend would squeal with excitement over shattered bottles and flying cans. This was the first time in a long while where the shroud of Adam’s presence dissipated and their shoulders felt lighter.

Except there was something she couldn’t put into words. Something vaguely familiar yet so foreign. The atmosphere around her smelled cleaner and felt warm on her skin since Yang arrived, the sudden change in pace to their seemingly boring past routine was a step in the right direction where she wanted her life to be.

The more she studied Yang’s expressions, visually and vocally, she was drawn —  compelled — to the shining existence becoming so new and tantalizing.

~~~~~

“You’re not too bad at this, Ilia. I think you’re gonna be the one who takes on being the gunslinger when I’m gone,” she handed the young woman a fresh round of ammo for the revolver, glancing over her shoulder at Blake who seemed to be concentrating on something besides them.

Ilia wielded a forlorn expression as she unlocked the chamber of the heavily worn revolver, “When you’re gone? I thought you were staying with us?”

“I am. For now. You didn’t think I was staying forever, did you?” A smile apparent, lilac eyes beaming with compassion.

“No... but I see the way you look at her.”

A grave tone overshadowed the glee, “What do you mean by that? I don’t look at her like that.”

Smugness showed through as she tried to milk Yang for the truth, “Okay, sure.”

“I don’t see where you’re getting at,” hands fidgeted with the tartan naturally around her waist — a tell-tale sign she was nervous.

Ilia continued, “You might not see it but I do.”

“She’s a nice woman and she let me into y’all’s home. How did you think I’m supposed to look at her? Like I’m gonna kill her?”

“No, but she looks at you the same way you look at her,” Ilia badgered, sliding each round into the chamber. She clicked it back and spun, a satisfying song playing in her ears.

Yang took another glance at Blake, a spark ignited the kindling in her nerves, spreading enough to touch the surface. She wasn’t prepared for what she was hearing as she felt the heat rise through her skin. Blake seemed like the type of woman who would have little to zero interest in a person like her — a vagabond with an indomitable spirit. Sure she was friendly with her but she had doubts that anything would be more than that. “I don’t wanna hurt her. She seems like she’s been through enough as it is.”

“She has but I don’t want to see her unhappy with the hand she’s been dealt. She deserves more than that. You haven’t seen her like I have. Since you’ve been here, she’s been... different — peaceful. I want her to be happy and if you’re the person who does that, then who am I to stop it?”

~~~~~

Ilia’s words resonated in her ears like a smoking gun, pushing her harder to slam the head of the hammer clenched in her fist onto the innocent nails that drove into the wood. The mid-day sun was beating down on her and all she could do was sit on their conversation a few hours prior. The weight pressed on her even more. ‘ The way she looks at you...’  It almost seemed too much to bear.

Each plank she set just made her push harder for the next one like it was supposed to drive Blake from the forefront of her mind. How was she supposed to think this wasn’t going to happen? An attractive woman showing her an ounce of compassion never occurred to her. She was usually kicked to the side like a three-legged dog.

“I haven’t seen her look at me in whatever way Ilia thinks she is,” she spoke aloud as if a higher power were to intervene. The hammer slammed onto the last nail in one smooth, solid drive. Then set the next one in place. ‘ The way she looks at you.’

“Yang!” That familiar voice jolted her away from her drifting thoughts and the focus she tried to uphold.

The hammer’s fall landed on her thumb instead, immediately dropping the tool. “Jesus, Mary and  Joseph !” A shout cut through the breeze, acrid with ensuing profanities then placed the tip in her mouth as if it were to cure the afflicted skin.

“Oh my God, Yang! Are you ok?” The distress in her voice was rich with concern though Yang was too immersed in her fresh injury.

 

Her thumb throbbed and swelled the agitated flesh under her nail. A bruise would soon replace the rouge, pain would linger through tomorrowbut... she had her own self to blame for not being more conscious and too self-absorbed. It would be a reminder of where her heart began to settle.

Another shout from below made her turn her attention to the center of her distraction, thumb wet and cooling despite the heat from the sun. She held her hand close to her chest answering Blake as calmly as she could muster a breath, though her accent thickened, “Aye, I’m alright.”

She swiftly climbed down the ladder, one rung at a time to avoid another preventable accident. By the time her boot hit the dirt, Blake was standing close, apologetic gold searing onto the hand Yang flexed as she worked out the pain.

“Let me see your hand.” It was more of a demand than inquiry, her own reaching out to assess the damage she felt she caused.

Yang refused eye contact but gave in with the slightest apprehension. The feathery touch of Blake’s soft hand against her own did more than subside the pain, it strengthened her stability against the dwindling throb. The touch lingered, pads of her fingertips traveling down to the palm as she observed the obscure lines and calloused skin. They traveled across Yang’s lifeline to the base of her fingers letting curiosity speak for itself.

Yang released a wavering breath the longer Blake held on but had no strength to pull away. This touch was unlike any she felt before. This was new considering her rough-and-tumble lifestyle which gave her little interest to pursue  this . Perhaps Blake was hunting her and she had little opposition against that thought.

Blake’s fingertips slid off her own, even then Yang held her hand open while holding on to what was there seconds before. She looked up to Blake and noticed she was distant, lost. “I think my thumb’ll be okay,” her voice softer than she thought capable.

“I’m so sorry... I shouldn’t’ve startled you like that.” This was a submissive reaction. Yang sensed a pain her voice that was evident that she  had  been hurt before. Anger welled in the center of her chest. There was a hope inside that would lead her to the root of the problem so she could help in some sort of way yet those days seemed far away.

A slight grin broke the tension as Blake shamefully looked into her eyes, “I don’t need you apologizing for every little thing that happens. It was an accident that wasn’t your fault. This was bound to happen sooner or later.” Yang took Blake’s hand onto her own, a gentle squeeze emphasizing a truth the brunette had trouble accepting, “You just happened to be there when it did.”

Silence indicated Blake was still feeling ill about it. “Blake, really it’s okay. I still have my thumb so please, don’t feel like it’s your fault.”

Blake half-heartedly accepted, returning Yang’s grip with her own, “Okay... just stop being such a dumb-ass with the hammer.” Humor saturated the forlorn emotions running rampant within Blake.

Yang could help but burst with laughter, “You got it, boss.” It was contagious enough for Blake to crack a smile and released a short chuckle hidden in her lungs.

When the laughter subsided, Yang remembered the hand in hers, immediately releasing as she cleared her throat, “So, uh, what were you needing a moment ago? Everything alright?”

Her hand kept its place at her side, the imprint of Yang left on her skin, she smiled against the sun’s fury through squinting eyes, “Everything’s fine. I just thought you should probably take a break and get out of the sun. Or at least get a drink. You’ve been up there for a while now.”

Yang nodded, falling to Blake’s request as they crossed the quad in unison, strides inevitably in sync.

Blake stood close, closer than Yang wanted at the moment, passing the cup with a zealous offer. Yang took it while barely looking at where she was grabbing then downed the entire drink in one go. “You seem rather quiet today.”

“Aye, just busy,” her answer was cut and dry, emotion drained from her voice.

“I see... well, Ilia and I were discussing going into town tomorrow. I was wondering if you wanted to join us.” Yang couldn’t help but see the way Blake’s hands nervously play with her skirt while she stood stoic and calm. At least that’s how she appeared on the outside.

“That actually sounds like a good idea. I’m low on ammo for the Smith because  someone  prefers my thirty-eight,” Yang poked fun at Blake’s preference over the forty-four. She had a hunch that it had something to do about her comment when they started lessons with the revolvers that it was her favorite between the two on her hip.

“There’s nothing wrong with that. It suits you, if I’m being honest.” A shade of pink cast over the bridge of Blake’s nose, unsure whether or not if it was the sun’s doing or an actual blush. “And besides, I have those bandito’s weapons that need to be sold. I’d give one of them to you but you deserve something handled by someone that didn’t try to kill you _and_ made  with better craftsmanship.”

“One of these days I’ll have my own. Might just get me a thirty-eight for myself,” Blake let out a short laugh and watched Yang smile shied toward the ground, eye contact lasting as long as a blink before drifting elsewhere.

She learned too well how people can change as quick as a lightning strike. It starts with a calming breeze, one that will render the heart with peace and a will to surrender. The static builds, raising the hair on her arms as if it was enough time to brace herself for the storm. Before she could protect herself, she’s struck with a hand she wished was lighting.

She started to feel that shift in Yang. She started friendly, both on the same level of intrigue and ignorance of the other. Something... drew her in and she didn’t know  what exactly. A spike in interest soared once she began to converse with the woman, the words she spoke were speckled with a tone from a different world and it only intrigued her more. Each conversation and passing glance at the other weighed her down with curiosity. Curiosity regarding her eyes and the things she’d seen. Her hands and what they built or destroyed. Her lips and who had been there... if she’d ever be there...

Admitting attraction towards a human was unheard of but she felt confidence keeping it to herself. It had only been a week since she met Yang and she already felt safer in her shadow than she ever would’ve been under Adam’s. But now the doubt began to settle around her as it always did.

“You alright in there?”

Blake snapped her attention to Yang, whose brow was cocked. “Y-yeah, I’m fine.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Yang passed the cup back to Blake before turning on her heel back to the stables. “If you need anything, you’ll know where to find me.”

~~~~~

The sun was already starting to chase away the chill by the time they began their trek across the rolling plains. Blake rode close to her a majority of the ride and Yang had trouble keeping her eyes away. She had offered her duster early into the trip, feeling sympathetic that Blake only wore a shawl over shoulders against the chill. She could sense the shivering from the short distance but her chivalry could only go so far after a denial. Regardless of how much she wanted to offer, Blake was a stubborn woman and would refuse to show any sort of weakness.

Her exchange with Ilia the day prior set in her bones, not being able to recover from being blindsided so quickly and unexpectedly. Her eyes were open now, constantly trying to catch Blake and all that lied beneath her stone exterior which never wanted to give her what she wanted. It was going to be a game and the winner would be the one who saw the other crack.

Ilia had a knack for riding ahead, obvious signs of her impatience to reach the nearby town sooner but Blake didn’t feel the need to rush... and neither did Yang. Yang saw how much at ease the stubborn woman was on her horse as if it was second nature, her attachment to not being so afraid... and it showed in her complacent stauter.

Each dip in the horse’s stride was hypnotic enough to keep her attention onto the woman to her right, wondering what it really was that gave Ilia the notion to say what she did. Surely she didn’t see it in herself but she hadn’t the slightest clue what she looked like through golden eyes. That majestic amber... Her curiosity was clearly taking over every rational thought in the forefront of her erratic mind.

The trip passed with near silence from all three parties, sun rising to claim it’s place in the sky, shadows dwindling with each breathing minute. Yang fell back to flank their caravan, hand on the reins and close to the rifle against the horse’s shoulder. If anyone tried to bum rush them, Yang would be the first to draw her gun. She was content with Blake holding on to her thirty-eight and Ilia with the forty-four. As long as she was able to snipe from a distance, there would be no reason either woman should draw their steel.

Yang still held her guard although the small town was within view but she was glad it came sooner than later. This silence was weighing on her chest. This dwelling time in silence was pressing on her immensely and she needed to make a visit to the saloon and quick.

The town was a strip as straight as the barrel of her shotgun in the other holster from what she could tell the more ground had been passed beneath them. It was small enough that keeping distance from Blake would’ve been more challenging than not.  _Fuck_   was her only objection.

The town folk bustled but it wasn’t like what she had seen in more developed towns, which was more to her liking. It meant she wouldn’t be noticed by scorned employers or women she left behind. This almost made her worry about her face being more noticeable and stamping Blake and Ilia guilty by association. She needed to separate until they were ready to hit the trail back.

“Hey, Blake. I’m gonna get these things to a gunsmith or the blacksmith — whichever one gives the most coin. I’ll meet up with you later,” Yang patted the makeshift sack hanging from one side of the horse.

“Should we come with you? Ilia needs to talk to the blacksmith, al—“

“No that’s alright. I’ll get what she needs which is...” Yang cocked an eyebrow, unsure of what exactly Ilia had in mind.

“I need nails, if you could. Gives me more time to browse the general store,” a bright smile passed over to Yang as a thank you.

Yang returned the gesture and tipped the worn bill of her sun-bleached hat, “Sure thing.” She tightened her grip on the reins and turned to Blake, “Be careful. Please?”

An endearing nod answered Yang’s concern and dug her heels into the horse’s ribs leaving Yang in her tracks with Ilia not far behind. A wave rolled through her like thunder breaching safety with no time to recover. She swallowed a breath of dust ridden air and made her way where she needed —  wanted — to be.

~~~~~

“Is she acting funny or am I just reading too much in her silence?” Blake looked over to Ilia, who turned a jar in her hands with disinterest.

“I’m not sure. She seems fine to me,” she set the jar back in it’s designed spot, then made her way over to the fabrics on the other side of Blake.

Her ear twitched beneath her ribbon, pain spiking at their fold and eyed Ilia for some sort of truth, “I just noticed... after your lesson yesterday... she won’t talk to me. And wen she did, it seemed like she was annoyed maybe? She finished the stable roof and then... disappeared. She didn’t even join us at the table last night.”

The hand roaming over bright colored patterns slowed, turning her attention away onto something across the room, “Yang... seems fine to me.”

Blake disagreed. Something was wrong. She felt it in her bones down to the marrow, “I don’t know. It feels like she’s hiding something and I’m going to find out one way or another.”

“Are you suggesting we spy on her?”

“Maybe? I don’t know,” Blake’s eyes drifted away, disinterest underway.

“I think you’re overthinking this, Blake. There are things about her we don’t know about. Perhaps she’s going through something that’s beyond us?”

A slow exhale left Blake’s lips then looked over to Ilia standing nearby, a weak smile overshadowing the doubt, “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

~~~~~

Yang tied her Cimarron to the post outside the saloon, eyes constantly switching over each shoulder with built up anxiety resting in the pit of her stomach. Trouble usually sprouted from the unlikeliest sources and with this being a growing town, someone was bound to be here.

Her hand dragged across the fine cowlick on the horse’s snout, fingers digging into the swirl, “Alright, Celica, you know the drill. I’ll be back.”

She took one last look behind her and dipped her hat low as she pushed through the swinging doors into the foul odors and thick smoke clinging to the atmosphere. It was welcoming in an odd way but pushed back the urge to vomit as it hit her senses hard. Her heavy boots thumped across the thick boards, making her way straight to the bar. She took a hand and tossed her duster to the side to sit comfortably on the flat stool.

“What’ll it be, ma’am? Milk?” His condescending voice grating at her nerves them moment they reached her ears.

She looked at him directly, eyes swirling with maroon, “Not unless it’s from your mother. But since you’re offering, I’ll take the strongest whiskey you got. And make it a double, too.”

The man offered her a smile, pulling a glass from under the counter, “I like you.” The bottle was pulled from behind him and filled it to the excess, “This one’s on me.”

Yang took the glass between two fingers and brought it up to her lips, tipping the glass back in a quick motion allowing the alcohol to sear her throat until it boiled in her stomach. The liquid pooled feeling its warmth despite the heat of the stagnant air. Then the man filled it again followed by the same actions.  This  is what she missed. The burn of a self induced sickness, not the sobering virus that Blake inflicted her with.

“Everything alright, ma’am? Problems with the ol’ man?” He stood against the bar with both hands holding his weight

She shook her head then slid the glass a few inches for a refill, “No, quite the opposite.”

“Ah... lady problems. Can’t live with them, can’t live without.”

Yang licked the remaining liquor off her bottom lip and closed her eyes. She already felt the effects against her empty stomach but insisted on more. She wanted to forget everything, even for just a moment. “Yeah... something like that.”

“Well if you need to talk, I’m here.” The glass filled and she took it back, lacking the strength to finish off a third glass. The still liquid waited as she did. “But you’re payin’ for that one.”

“I got it.” A familiar voice sounded through the room. One she was least likely to hear from her past. She saw a thick hand drop a bill on the counter and immediately knew who it belonged to. Her head turned in the owners direction, wide-eyed and afraid.

“Xiao-Long, didn’t expect to see your face so far out from Tennessee.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter took longer to post than usual. Been struggling with changing ideas and flow of the story but hopefully everything will pan out how I’d like it to. If you have any ideas, questions, concerns or even little positive comments, it would totes help :)
> 
> And a HUGE thank you to everyone who’s taken the time to check out my fic! It’s highly appreciated for sure! You guys make the whole process worth it!

Junior. A name synonymous with clout and face to parallel, had simply become the last person she would’ve expected to see through her extended miles treaded. His stature struck her with every ounce of fear having encountered him face-to-face once more. She wanted him to stay in the past where he and his gang belonged. But here she was, in a dead saloon in an either growing or failing town, looking at another figure she had mislead and ran from months ago.

“W-what are you doing here?” She held the shanking in her voice to a minimum but was failing gracelessly with each thump in her chest.

His mustache slightly moved, reading the smirk beneath the dark hair peppered with solid white, “Same as you, I suppose. Looking for something. Or someone. And I happen to find just the person I was looking for.” The glint in his eyes served as a threat as he looked down at the woman.

The gesture alone was enough for her to high-tail it out but courage served its course, “I don’t want any trouble, Junior. I’ll pay you, whatever it is you want.” Whatever the price, any sort of escape was worth paying. The only thing of value held dear to her was her life, no matter the abrasive grain that stained her past and travels. Blood pumped through her ears, solid as a war drum on a silent battleground with a grave turnout.

“Oh, I’m sure you will. Only if it means saving the hides of those women you came in with.” The scruff on his chin did little to hide the side smile he played against her. She hated when he played his little games and she hated the fact that confidence wore her patience thin.

Yang stood slowly with the muscle in her jaw flexed. Not wanting a jumping gun to strike her down, she held onto the waning composure with a hand on the countertop, “You wouldn’t dare.” Her other hand hung inches from her holster only to realize her steel was with Blake and Ilia.  _Fuck_ .

“You’re unarmed and afraid, my dear. You think I wouldn’t notice that?” Two of his men within the circle behind him held her shotgun and rifle as a way of pulling through with his intent. “Think about how you’re gonna fight us off this time, Yang. What you did back in Tennessee won’t work this time.”

“Listen, Junior, you don’t wanna do this,” accent clear and cut slipping off her tongue. It felt rugged and even scared her for a brief moment.

“You sure about that? You ripped me off of the job  _you_ were in charge of.” His hand rested on the hilt of his revolver on his left hip ready to pull it if Yang was to strike. “And I plan on getting my cut.”

In a split second she realized she had a Bowie knife in her boot and how Junior left his right revolver open, she looked for an opening even if it was narrow and difficult like the passing through the eye of a needle, “What do you want? If you know everything, then you would know I have nothing.”

“Not  _nothing_ , Xiao Long. I want your head. Even if that means I gotta kill you for it.”

“It’s gonna take more than the likes of you to take me down,” knees beginning to shake from the earthquake of rolling nerves. She could talk a mad game but delivering, in this moment, would require the power of the gods to deliver her to victory. “I’ll give you to the count of three, Junior, to turn away and save you — and your boy’s— hides.”

He laughed as a way to call her bluff then looked back to the men at his back, “She’s fuckin’ nuts, boys.”

“One.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Two.” Her fingers wiggled as they relieved the stress she was under. The other hand inches away from the thick shot glass.

“I know you’re not  _this_ stupid .”

“Oh, really?” Yang’s eyes shifted from lilac to a burning set of rubies in the matter of the single breath she exhaled, “Three.”

~~~~~

Blake heard the first shot and her ear twitched beneath the black ribbon tied over her dark hair. This growing town usually has its instances of hardened men and newcomers attempting to assert dominance but was usually swayed by the gun of Marshal Port... This on the other hand, this felt different. Uncertainty sank into the marrow of her rattling bones.

A few more shots rang out through the walls of the store, catching Ilia’s gray eyes and look of worry between her brows. If Ilia had her doubts and fears, then something was indeed amiss.

She dodged the shelves and stands making a messy run for the dirt road, panic stricken with her hand reaching toward the bodice of her tight dress, praying the gunshots didn’t belong to Yang. She knew Yang was a fighter but didn’t know her enough to sense a short fuse for bloodshed.

A few more gunshots poured out through the strip, the anxiety caught in her throat having to cough though the saliva to breathe. She was on the verge of a complete breakdown through the chaos engulfing the town. She looked towards the saloon at the blonde running out of the structure clutching her arm, blood evident on her duster.

“Yang!” She cried out, shock induced.

Ilia had already saddled up, waiting for Blake to make the move and follow Yang’s burning trail through the town. “Blake! We gotta go!  _Now_!”

Blake watched Yang fly past pedestrians in a manic race, heart thumping hard enough to upset her stomach. Voices of men running out of the saloon shouted to catch her. In that exact moment, processing everything held a regard of impossibility. When she grasped one thing, another took its place. Understanding the scene and how her emotions came together as one chipped away at her ignorance.

Every sound erupted in her ears as if she were held underwater, trying to make sense of any of it. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.

“Blake! Come _on_!” Her confusion snapped and she spotted Ilia with a gentle plea and a nod of her head to mount her stallion.

Steel against her chest held close to her heart where all the emotions ran, sweat rushing down from either heat or, now, mania. If needed, she wouldn’t hesitate to draw it on one of the men if they even came close to Yang. This was the karma she needed to return on Yang’s behalf. She jabbed the horse with her heels the instant she held the reins, following the receding cloud that reached the edge of town.

They gained distance on Yang and saw the men falling behind as if they conceded to the chase. She couldn’t care less about them, Yang was the one she was most concerned with. The woman was injured but the degree of severity was in question.

The town was gone and the men with it when she turned back once more.

She pulled the reins back to slow Gambol’s pace as the blonde slowly came to a stop, hunched over in pain before falling off the saddle and into the dead weeds below. The color from Blake’s face fled and she felt her chest heave even harder than what she thought possible. In an instant, she was off the horse before Gambol came to a complete halt, stammering to gain balance, “ Yang!”

Every step she planted felt like boulders collected in her boots but fought off the urge to fall forward until she reached Yang. She needed to see if the woman was still alive... she owed it to her and everything Yang did for her and Ilia.

Yang lied on her side facing away from Blake, body lifeless and pale. The thought of trying to touch her skin frightened her immensely and held her breath as if she were to change her mind. The hold on her lungs allowed a hot tear to fall then released the air but she took in a fraction of a breath. She wanted to cry, she wanted to curse... she stood in front of Yang before kneeling, taking a hand in her own off the dirt. She gave a slight squeeze and felt one in return, a weak grip around her palm.

Yang lifted her chin, lIlan squinting against the sun beating on them and showed off a weak side grin. Infectious as it was, Blake returned it nearly losing her composure into a full cry dis believing the fact Yang was still herself despite the altercation. Her hand held tighter in Yang’s, not caring about the rusted blood against the contact.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you.” Another tear fell off her cheek, staining the dry skin of her hand. “I’ve got you. You’re here with me and I won’t let you go for a second.”

“Never,” Yang closed her eyes and dropped her head onto the ground, succumbing to the fatigue overtaking her.

~~~~~

Yang woke in the comfort of a bed and not the haystack she grew accustomed to, lilac fluttering to the lamp across the room. She wearily took in her surroundings, the familiar room held by weathered wood with lack of decor. The pain in her arm shot through her spine and the wound on her side paralyzed her from lifting off the mattress. Despite the overwhelming pain, she used her good arm to lift the blanket that overheated her in the uncirculated air.

She observed the damage and noticed her duster was gone as well as her staple flannel. Her skin was now fully exposed minus the wrappings on her arm and across her torso served as bandages. They were the same color as the skirt Blake wore that day and brutally kicked herself for ruining what little the woman probably owned.

Everything was a blur minus bits and pieces. The shot glass shattering on Junior’s face, the shootout, falling off the horse when she thought death served its notice... _Blake_. Memories vaguely replayed but were there terrorizing her mental capacity.

Her head fell back on the feather pillow in annoyance that she allowed herself to be put in harms way — put Blake in harm’s way. Although it was a common occurrence for her, it still subjugated Blake and Ilia in the same direction.

She shifted her attention back to the room and saw Blake sitting at the table completely invested in a book with a crease in her brow. She couldn’t help but resist how engrossed Blake was but just watched her as a smile grew on her lips. Blake saved her. For all she knew, the vultures could be feasting on a welcome dinner but that wasn’t the case for her today. Narrowly escaping death’s shroud, she knew the debt had been evened out. Blake no longer needed to play into harboring a vagabond because now, she was free.

Moving to sit upright took all the energy she could muster, groaning through the movement. No matter how many times she’d been shot, her body could never adjust to the pain and shock of torn muscle. It all felt the same, through-and-through.

Her skin left bare, she swung her legs over the edge and leaned forward with her hands on her knees to catch the shaking breath from her lungs.

The shadow against the wall broke Blake from her spell, jerking her attention from the book onto the blonde who’s sharp pain was written boldly across a strained face, “What the hell are you doing? You shouldn’t move!”

She looked up to Blake, creases of her eyes wet with oncoming tears, “Lying around isn’t my style.”

“Your _style_ should  be you not trying to kill yourself,” the tone in Blake’s voice carried a level of sincerity and rigor while folding the corner of the page she was on before closing it. “The salve on your wounds is still fresh and shouldn’t be agitated,” she stood from her spot and placed a hand on Yang’s tight shoulder to push her back down. Yet, Yang refused.

“What the hell do you mean by ‘ salve ’?” She glanced back down on the fabric then up to Blake.

Blake smiled at her ignorance, removing her hand and rested it on her hip, “It’s something I learned from my mother. It helps heal the wound without the risk of infection and it only works—“ she sat on the mattress not taking her eyes away from Yang’s “—if you  don’t _move_ .”

She wanted to kick herself  again . How could she be so brash with the Faunus? Doubting her would question the trust they established with one another. Trust was hard to find these days and usually ended with heated blood shed. For the first time, Yang felt speechless. “Thank you... for saving me. I really didn’t expect you to wanna do something like that for me.”

“What are you talking about? Why wouldn’t I?” The crease showed on the permanent line by her left brow once more but in a different perspective. “You’ve done a lot for Ilia and myself the past week — more than we ever could on our own.”

“I’m trouble, Blake. I can’t even go seven whole days without some sort of shootout...” Sheepishly berating herself, she turned away to the floor beneath her bare feet.

“Oh, stop. You’re not  trouble —“

The grimace Yang wore spoke true mirrored her internal struggle, every thought read like words on parchment, “He threatened you, Blake. He knows who you are and give it some time, he’ll find out where you live — where I am. This—“ Yang waved her hand between herself and Blake, “— _this_ has to end. So by morning’s first light, I’m leaving. Maybe you’ll be safer if I did.”

Yang’s hollow words struck a frenzy in the back of her mind like steel beneath a hammer. The short amount of time she spent with Yang wasn’t enough to end on the pretense that her safety only relied on the blonde leaving. No, her safety relied on Yang to  _stay_.  Admitting aloud that she needed her here became a childish notion she needed to curb but sometimes that little voice is what broke the barrier between ignorance and reality.

She remained silent as if she were to think of another way to keep Yang grounded — to her. She didn’t expect a departure so quickly after finding some source of happiness in having a second chance of peace. But, if that was what Yang wanted, then who was she to stop her? “At least... let the wound heal first. You’ll catch yourself in shit creek with an infection.”

“I wish I could but my mind’s already made.” Blake’s thread burned by how disregarded her opinion was like ripples waking still water; no balance between the absolute and peace.

Blake picked up the pieces bit by bit as she stood, eyeing Yang’s obstinacy. This would hurt when she said good-bye but it was a pain she would learn to grow from.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the delay on this! Hopefully I won’ make y’all wait for the next installment but I appreciate everyone hanging on for this one. I guess I lost direction of how the story was gonna go but now I have a better perspective of how I want it to go! Thanks to everyone who gave this thing a shot in its infancy and if there’s anything that doesn’t seem right, speak up and give me some advice! Thanks again!

The night appeared darker then what it normally did, or at least in Blake’s eyes, it did. In regular circumstances, she had no problem falling asleep but the way her mind overworked itself on this particular night only because she was going to have to rework herself without Yang in the picture. Anxiety overwhelmed her nerves — more so, that she hadn’t fully expressed what having here did for her. Yang was leaving. And when she left, seeing her again would be a sign that leaving home would’ve been for naught. She was put on a path to find happiness for herself and no one else but she saw a light — dim as it was — in the eyes of a golden gunslinger.

Blake reached for her silver pocket watch, a memento from her broken father to remember him by, and read the fragile arms glinting in the waning moonlight. The bleak numbers presented daybreak arriving shortly and with it, her sense of purpose was dwindling with each second the second hand ticked . Her shallow breathing reflected the dread in her heart.

Ilia slept in the bed with her, giving Yang one for her own to rest the fresh wounds sustained from the unexpected shoot out. Somehow the bed felt colder. She loved her friend dearly but she wasn’t the person she wanted to share it with. Ilia faced the other direction, soft sounds playing in both sets of ears were mild but in the same, unbearable.

She fell back into herself, closing her eyes although they fought her, she rolled over to her side looking at the space where the ladder would take her downstairs. The inevitable would be here by the time she awoke — lonely and disoriented — before the roots fully took hold.

Her ears pricked — after what felt like a few minutes — at the sound of boot heels knocking against the hollow floor. A stampede of emotions surged through her chest, body unmoving as if in shock. It was too early for Yang to leave. Dawn was less than two hours out and already the blonde was making a run for it. She had to do something — change Yang’s mind somehow. Something drastic to give the woman a  _reason_ to stay... with her.

Yang meant every word, leaving no space for empty promises. She made her intentions clear, following through with her plan. Her part of the blanket folded over onto Ilia as she jolted onto the chilled wood. Shortly after making it to her feet, the squeal of the door motioned her down the ladder.

On the table rested the revolver, the one she took a liking to the most, worn side of the barrel face-up and a few extra rounds beside it. She took the gun in from its spot and headed for the door.

Once outside, the cool morning air softened against the sweat on her neck through the thick mane down her back. Her tender feet on the wood was an interesting sensation but the rocks she made her way over to the stables were not. The large door left open for Yang’s leave, magnetically drew her forward.

She stood a few feet from the entrance as she watched Yang tighten the strap with the saddle on the Cimarron’s back, her good hand working on tightening the leather strap across it’s torso. The other held close to her body to refrain any sort of agitation. Her signature duster was gone, only leaving her arms covered in the freshly washed flannel shirt.

Steel in her hand bolted her down as if it were a barge pressing down. She wanted to step forward but the unforgivable weight buckled her knees, locking her down.

At the right moment, Yang spotted her. Lilac unforgiving by the flickering orange of the kerosene lamp. Each time the flame took a breath, every hue in Yang’s eyes disappeared. She held a crease in her left brow but the look of surprise blended perfectly beneath the freckles Blake memorized a million times over, “What’re you doin’ up so early, Blake?” Her hand fell to her side incapable of pursing their tasks.

Blake stood still for a moment, staring into an inconsequential abyss. Her hand grew sweaty against the steel firearm and that’s what snapped her from the void. She stepped forward, gun switching between sweating fingers. Gripping the barrel in a last effort to have any sort of interaction with Yang, she held it out in front, “I heard you leaving and... You forgot this.” She knew Yang left it behind solely for her but needed a reason to be there — in that second —  as if she needed any reason just to say goodbye.

Yang looked for a way to respond, wide-eyed at Blake’s unwanted gift, “Keep it, it’s yours. It looks better with you anyways.” When she said it, a disheartened smile worked its way to break the tension. “At least you’ll have something good to remember me by.”

“I don’t want it.” On the contrary, she did want to keep it even if it was a material object, she was stubborn and she knew it. She was stubborn in the things she wanted and didn’t but most of all, she was stubborn about the person she wanted most. The silver in her hand would serve a purpose as a reminder of something that could’ve —  _should’ve_ — been. Just another thing lost along the way of writing her own story.

Yang’s eyes tore into Blake’s flesh, searching for something beyond skin deep. Blake felt naked in the stare, heat rising to the surface. She wanted Yang to see something that  was  there. All she had to so was find it and bring it to light.

Yang stepped closer to see more clearly. The sweat building along her hairline, her glossed eyes... it’s as if she wanted to see the wreckage of her own destruction. “Why do you have to make this so difficult? You don’t need me here anymore.”

“You’re right, I  don’t  _need_ you here,” she looked out the open stable to the illuminated constructs beyond the walls. She lingered her attention to the ground, avoiding the soul driving stare she felt on her skin only to meet them once more when she looked back up. “But,” she took one breath before taking the leap she couldn’t escape from anymore. “Have you ever considered what I  _want_? ”

Yang’s brow creased, the fissure inside on the cusp of eruption, “What you want?”

“Yes, Yang. What I want ,”  what she tried to hold in was coming to the surface quicker than she could manage. Tears became present, no longer holding them from being seen.

With her left hand, her fingers wiped the tear from its ready fall, then used her palm to erase what was left. She liked what she was able to touch, resting her strong hand on the square of Blake’s sharp jawline. Another tear fell and she caught it with her thumb over a high cheekbone, “What do you want, Blake?” She fell into the touch as the curious and compassionate question dusted her ears.

It broke her. The fact that Yang was genuinely asking something rivaling that of admission shattered her completely. Yang’s touch strengthened as if the contact were her lifeline for survival. Tears fell freely, taking in a quivering breath with the oncoming rush of emotions, “I...” A hand left the gun and rested on the backside of Yang’s, clenching the skin on her own.

Yang felt the quake of Blake’s unable strength fall at the admission and her own not to leave her as she was. “Blake...” She held tighter, giving support. Not just for Blake but for herself. This time, her voice spread in a whisper, “What  _do_ you want? You can tell me.”

Blake was terrified of Yang. Terrified she wouldn’t amount to the woman holding her. Terrified this would be the final straw for her to leave. But now... she was in too deep to pull herself out of the mud, “I want you.”

Yang swallowed hard, throat tight from fear. Her eyes smiled at Blake, bottom lip between her teeth then brushed her thumb across the heated skin below golden depths. “I don’t think you really mean that.”

Apprehensive eyes, bloodshot and glazed, turned to Yang as she drew closer, her admission clearing the restraint of following through. “Yes, I do. I want you and I want you to stay here — with me. I want you — all of you and if you think I’m going to change my mind then you’re wrong.”

“...Blake.” Yang dropped her fingertips, lithe and stealthily, onto the crook of Blake's bare neck, careful to not apply to much strength in them. The sensation of being able to embrace the soft skin under her fingertips, the rush of blood surging through them with the smallest amount of contact... It wasnt enough. Intent to instinctively explore took over, a breath escaping her chest.

Beneath her touch, she sensed Blake melting, leaning into her hold. There was more of a primal look in Blake's eyes when they connected and she wanted to discover what that entailed. Gold invited her to pursue, apprehensive but commanding all the same. Blake laid a hand on the back of Yang’s, fingers interlacing with her own and shifted it down to her lips, where she felt the slighted brush across her palm. The hot breath etching into every crevice in her weathered palm rose the fine hairs on her neck from the unexpected affection. Maybe this is what Blake meant when she wanted all of her, the imperfections and scars. The grit and callouses of a history unknown to her. If that's what she wanted to find, then that's what Yang would relinquish.

Yang, with Blake's hold on hers, took her hand into the dark waves of an untold story, scraping against the roots of her hair, presenting the need to go beyond the minimal touch she wanted. Her short breaths caught in her throat as Blake's grip tightened, allowing Yang to proceed with what she silently asked for.

Yang dropped her chin to meet Blake's, curiosity beyond simple perplexion, taking in the scent that made Blake her own, tasting the air between them as if it were to revive her from a potential death the moment she would touch Blake's pink lips on her own.

Behind heavy eyes, Blake found herself entranced in the moment, beckoning for the woman in front of her to take action. She knew she wanted to but if Yang held her on this string any longer, she would take matters into her own hands.

Heated tension between them stirred emotions in Blake's heart like the winds intermittently whipping through her core, ravaging what was left of her pock-marked soul. The closer Yang got to her, she felt her breath hold that much longer. It took the strength of the gods to keep herself from finishing the advances. The inevitability in Yang's lilac eyes told her not to worry.

Inches away from setting this moment in stone, she followed Yang as she closed her eyes, their aura blending together once Yang’s nose touched hers. For a few seconds, she heard Yang take one last breath before she felt her dry lips touch her own. They were dry from the heat but soft like sun scorched cotton.

Her hand released from Yang's, sliding down her forearm to her bicep, needing to ground herself before the lightning torched every muscle, every inch of skin.

Her lips moved with Yang's in tandem, each kiss demanding more of her and she was willing to give without hesitation. Yang pulled her closer as their kiss deepened into something more sweet and luxurious, holding her with caution.

Truth in the kiss dismissed Blake's doubt that the woman against her wanted her as well but it didn't prove Yang would stay with her. As long as she had this — this goodbye kiss — she would be willing to accept that not all things are permanent.

People are meant to change and they're meant to follow the road they've been destined to blaze. She hoped this was where her road lead to, being in the arms of a woman who treated her as a person, nothing more and nothing less. Unfortunately some roads lead to nowhere, some lead to tragedy but this one... this one felt like there were possibilities sprouting along the way. New things to uncover and grow from.

Blake couldn't help but let those thoughts crowd the forefront of her busy mind but was drawn from them when Yang’s tongue painted a trail across her bottom lip as if she needed permission to enter. Blake parted in the slightest daring Yang to move forward and it took less than a second before Yang had Blake's upper lip between hers. She released then steadily moved her tongue with Blake's, who made the motion first, unwilling to ride out the patience of Yang’s stride.

The kiss ended as Yang pulled away, licking her lips to catch what was left of Blake on her and looked at Blake who's eyes fluttered open as if she woke from a dream. She was glad the lamp was dim enough to hide the shade of red on her cheeks. She thought it was readable on Yangs but couldn't tell from the angle.

Yang still had her hand on the back of Blake's neck, “Feisty, ain’tcha?”

Blake chortled at Yang’s answer, hand still resting on the thick muscle. Yet, for some reason, felt embarrassed based on her vulnerability, “Shut up.”

She laughed at Blake’s deflection, failing to be serious. The way she shied away like a young school girl warmed Yang’s heart, fingers brushing a tuft of hair that fell back into Blake’s eyes. She wanted to see the gold she fought addiction against, vulnerable to the venom coursing. Blood clotting in her veins was enough to seize her heart every time she made contact with them.

With the lack of heat in the early morning hours, Blake crossed her arms over her chest hoping to desist the shivering in her bones. “You ok? Are you cold?” A crease formed between Yang’s brows, concerned for the Faunus’ well-being.

Blake didn’t stubbornly wouldn’t outright respond but it made Yang smile once more. She reached down to the buckle of her holster, expert fingers performing a routine she had done a million times over, dropping the belt onto the hay at her feet.

“Here,” was all Yang said as she untied the old and damaged cloth from around her waist. Blake looked at Yang unfolding the family heirloom before she felt it fall lightly on her shoulders. After Blake pulled the cloth tighter to her body, Yang boldly rubbed her hands over Blake’s arms for more heat, “Does that feel better?” Yang’s voice soft and comforting, the slightest pitch of her heritage present.

“Yes, thank you,” she shrank into the cloth which smelled of history — a time of bloodshed and discrimination of Yang’s ancestry. It surprised Blake by how sturdy the common ground felt between them. Their families, though from other sides of the world, endured persecution for  _who_ _they_ were.  Granted she barely knew anything of Yang’s lineage, she knew bits and pieces of Scottish history. She couldn’t help but smile that they weren’t much different after all.

“Would you like to go inside where it’s warm?”

Blake showed an obvious swallow in the lamp’s light. What then? Was this it? “Sure. I’ll leave you to it then.” She was too stubborn to say goodbye, not after what just happened between them. She pulled the tartan off her shoulders, only being shrouded for the brief moment, handing it back to Yang — who refused to take it.

“Hold onto it. I’ll meet you inside after I unsaddle the ole girl.”

Blake’s expression perked as Yang picked up her guns and headed back to Ember, “I—I thought you were leaving?”

Yang stopped in her tracks, turning back to Blake, “How could I leave after _that_?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanna say THANK YOU to everyone who’s taken the time for this! I hope I can keep this thing on the right track the way I want it to go but you never know, I just might derail it AGAIN. But for the best, I hope :P

“Oh. So this is what we’re doing now.”

Blake and Yang both jolted from their sleep on the bed Ilia stood over, down-casting a playful smirk in her eyes. Her arms were crossed over her chest to assume some sort of authority but quickly laughed at their hazy wake up call.

Yang lied back down, hand over her eyes like she had been caught with her pants around her ankles. She was embarrassed, yes, but couldn’t help but join in with Ilia’s laughter. Blake on the other hand, covered her face beneath both hands to hide her rose colored cheeks.

“Ilia, nothing happened,” Blake peeked her eyes over her fingertips, voice muffled.

The chair pitched a wooden grinding sound over the floor boards, setting herself down for the show, “Oh, I can definitely see that. Just curious how you got her to stay  _and_ sleep in the same bed as you.  _If_ nothing happened, as you say.”

Yang glanced over at Blake, who slouched in defeat. “I kissed her. That’s all,” she had to save Blake from the embarrassment they both endured. Last thing she wanted was to be caught in something ‘too much’. For her it wasn’t but could only imagine how Blake must’ve been feeling. Through the time they came to know each other, Blake wasn’t a very open person, secrets still bottled waiting to be uncorked.

“Took long enough to get your head out of you ass. I wondered how long it was going to take for you to make a move — both of you,” her brow cocked, amusement etched on her lips.

Yang remained silent alongside Blake, who looked like she was ready to make a run for it. She reached over and laid a hand on Blake’s smaller one, giving a slight squeeze for support.

“But I’m glad though. Seeing you two eyeing each other was starting to make me sick.”

“Thanks, Ilia,” Yang responded with the driest taste on her tongue. She let go of Blake’s hand and turned away to the wall beside her. The designs in the wood had been studied many times from her stay in the foreign bed as she lied there for hours with nothing to do bu recover from her wounds — consistently reminding her through tremors of pain when shifting out of discomfort.

Ilia smiled before turning on her feet for the door since her daunting chores were already delayed that morning. Blake watched as the figure blacked out against the light of the open door. As the door came to a close, she glanced over to Yang who still kept her eyes on the wood. “You didn’t have to tell her, you know. You could’ve just lied about it at least.” Her calm voice rendered more than a quick lashing of the tongue.

Yang sat quiet as if succumbing to the chastisement. Her fingers playing with the snagged threads of the blanket, she slowly took her attention from the wall to meet and impending fury of gold. Instead, she witnessed an abashed stain of gold she knew she caused. “I... I’m sorry, Blake. It was uncalled for. I shoudn’t’ve said anything.”

A long exhale blew past her lips, reading the remorse coming from the woman beside her. In an apologetic reaction, she took Yang’s solid hand in her own, thumb brushing against scars blessed across sharp knuckles. “Don’t be. I suppose it was better to tell the truth than lie to the one person who’s been there for me since...” She trailed off before releasing too much information but she knew this box would open eventually. Since she was on the subject, would it be better to withhold something vital or lie about it?

Yang held her stare a little longer, her lilac shining with curiosity to learn more about Blake than what she knew — which was close to nothing. “You don’t have to tell me, Blake. And I’m not gonna press it.”

“No... I think it would do some good to let it out sooner than later...” She let go of the solid hand and closed her arms over herself as if she needed protection. She closed her eyes and breathed in heavy intervals.

Yang with the empathetic nature she had, landed her arm over Blake’s shoulders, gripping the one her hand rested on and pulled her close. “Only if you want to, my ears are all yours.”

Blake leaned into Yang’s side, laying her head on the woman’s sturdy chest, “My father is a chieftain of a peaceful tribe out west who did nothing but support and care for his people — me especially. I guess you could say I was a daddy’s girl. Growing up, all I wanted was to be like him and make him proud. I was supposed to be his successor when he stepped down or... you know.”

Yang’s eyes flared open, “So you’re royalty?“

“Well, the equivalent of royalty. Yes, unfortunately,” she laughed at Yang’s revelation but collected her breath before backing out from the rest of the story. “You see, there was a rivalry tribe we held our best against. My father made a deal behind my back, betrothed me to their chieftain to establish peace. His name was Adam Taurus. Sure I was upset and thought the world was going to end but after meeting him, I guess you could say it was love at first sight. He was charming, witty and everything a girl like me would fall for.” Her voice quivered at the revival of his name and darkness it embodied. She wanted nothing more than to put that name to rest but with him tied into her past, it was only wishful thinking.

“We were inseparable and for once, I was actually happy just being with him and sneaking out at night... As the weeks dwindled before our union, he changed. I saw a side of him that scared me. He was angry with my father and took it out on me one night, leaving me in a heap of bruises and a deep cut under my eye,” her hand touched the sensitive flesh.

Yang whispered after a moment of silence from Blake, “I wanted to ask you how it happened but I didn’t feel it was right to...”

“I probably wouldn’t have told you if you did but... now you know.”

Yang shifted to look at her, hand covering the one on her cheek, taking Blake’s away to touch it with her own, “I’m so sorry. This never should’ve happened to you.”

Blake smiled at the sentiment, tears born at the sides of her eyes, “It’s not your fault, Yang. In some ways I feel like I  _did_ deserve it but I never had the answer as to  _why_ , though.”

A calloused thumb caught the tear falling from the pair of glossed eyes, fingers curling into the dark hair and nudged forward to soothe Blake’s turmoil with a kiss — one that Blake graciously took. It was short lived but enough to express how much she cared. She lingered close enough to feel the heat of Blake’s aura then pressed her forehead to hers. “Blake, you _never_ deserved  that. If I had been there, I never woulda let that happen to you.  _Ever_ .”

“I know you wouldn’t...”

Yang pulled her in for a hug, spilling everything she could through the embrace. Her hand rested flat against Blake’s shoulder blades, traveling up and down in an attempt to convince her of the full-hearted promise.

“Ilia was the first person I told after the incident. Then my mother. She feared for my life because if this happed once, it was going to happen again. So that night, when the moon was at its brightest, my mother helped me pack a few belongings and handed me enough coin my father wouldn’t notice... Ilia left with me that night and this is where I ended up — here in this bed — with you and I’m never going back.”

Yang fell back against the headboard with Blake still tight in her arms, “With you leaving, do you think everything’s okay out there? You said a war would happen if you didn’t marry that guy?”

“Not sure... I hope not. My father is well-liked amongst the neighboring towns and villages so I’m sure he could’ve recruited enough hands to take Adam for good but... I don’t know. I’d like to think nothing happened...”

“Do you not have contact with them? Letters? Telegraph?”

Blake shook her head enough not to disturb Yang, “Not since I sent her a message that we were safe outside Sunny-Vale. I never heard anything back. I just hope it wasn’t intercepted by Adam.”

A crease formed between Yang’s eyes, “If he had, wouldn’t he have come here to find you?”

“Let’s just hope he doesn’t because you’re here. If he does, I want you to take him down, Yang. And if you don’t then I will.”

~~~~~

As her wounds began to heal, Yang got adjusted to Blake’s field dressings three times a day. Each day more tolerable than the last, which she began to look forward to the intimacy in the moment, being vulnerable to the touch and eyes on her uncovered flesh.

Ilia made herself scarce in those moments, squeamish at the sight of open wounds. Today, she was in town picking up supplies since Blake needed to keep Yang in check from doing something beyond her current capacity. Yang liked the company while doing mild work around the property and watching Blake take on the more rigorous tasks that needed tending.

When the work became to much and the movement would agitate the spots, she would sit on the deck and watch Blake split wood or even tend to the chickens before they were sold off for a handful of coin. The thought that she fell for a fully capable woman showed in the wondrous gaze Blake would catch from time to time, smiling to herself.

This day felt no different than the rest but something in Ilia’s return proved there was an off-putting resonance in the air. Her face was sunken as she rode into the stable, slowly taking her time to unsaddle her horse. Yang could feel it in the distance between them and watched as she approached Blake with heavy steps, pulling a piece of paper from her back pocket. A lethargic hand took it and it made Yang curious as to what it was about.

Blake tore the paper from the envelope, holding the letter in her hands. Even from a distance, there was a shake in her hands as she tried to hold still enough to read it. Yang didn’t want to intrude on the moment but on the same coin, she wanted to go over and see for herself if Blake was okay.

Blake made her way to the cabin with Ilia in tow, hand rubbing her face in either annoyance or disdain. Once she approached Yang caught her arm with a gentle touch of trust, “Everything alright?”

Blake just stared at the ground past Yang then looked her in the eye, “I got a letter from my mother... My father is sick and Adam doing whatever he can to take their land since... their heir is gone. If something happens to him, the land defaults to Adam. It’s been law for generations but never had to be implemented until now.”

“So what does that mean? You’re going back?”

Blake’s attention went back to the letter in hand, “I have no choice at this point. Or at least right now I don’t.”

“You  _always_ have a choice. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. If you’re worried something’s gonna happen then maybe it’s in your best interest not to,” Yang’s eyes glowed a light shade of lilac as she looked over Blake’s forlorn appearance, heart breaking by the sudden stupor she cringed to see.

“There is a problem if I actually choose to go back...”

The softest drop in her voice sprang from her throat with a mild sense of desperation to know, “A problem? Like what?”

“I’m betrothed to Adam... If I go back then I _have_ to  marry him. But...”

Yang rested her hand on the back of Blake’s neck, turning the faunus’ attention to her, “But, what?”

With a slow blink and a heavy breath, Blake regained her explanation of the letter, “In order for our betrothal to be null and void, I have to already be married.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Yang actually felt speechless as to what she would say next. She couldn’t think about Blake being married to someone else. Not in this lifetime, or the next.

“I don’t want to do this, Yang. But my family needs me for once and not the other way around. It’s the least I can do for what they’ve done for me.”

Yang looked away to the far off distance before nodding her head, “Okay then. Do what you gotta do — I won’t stop you. I just want you to make the right decision.”

Blake brought her lithe fingers to Yang’s cheek, apprehensive in the touch as if she would trigger something in Yang to explode. Intentionally hurting people wasn’t in her genome but that’s what it reflected. She didn’t share this information to cause injury to her soul but to look for an answer.

She felt Yang fall into the touch as each second passed by them, as the sun casted its movement of time. She didn’t know how long they stood there, soaking each other’s affection to bide enough time to figure out the next step. “I don’t know what to do... Just when I feel like I know the answer or think I’m on the right track, I’m right back to where I started.”

“That’s okay, Blake. You don’t have to know what you’re gonna do yet. Just sleep on it and it might come to you,” soft locks of dark hair separated as her fingers ran through, making their descent to the back of her neck. “Do you know who you’d ask if it came down to it?”

Blake nodded just enough to semi-answer the question, “If I ask, I doubt I’ll hear the right response...”

“You can tell me. I won’t get mad. I know what you need to do and I’ll support you no matter who it is.”

She stayed quiet long enough to let Yang’s words sink in, “I... I want to marry  you. ”

Yang pulled herself away to weigh the gravity of Blake’s response, “Excuse me?”

“Marry me, Yang.”

“You’re kiddin’.”

“Does it look like I’m kidding?” Her eyes showed no shimmer of a joke but stared into Yang with the seriousness of a murderous sun. A hand reached for Yang’s cheek once more, absorbing the heat from the skin beneath her palm and let her thumb brush the wood speckles glued below Yang’s left eye. “I trust you with my life, Yang. There’s no one else I would do this with.”

Yang placed her hand over Blake’s, curling her fingers around ivory knuckles and moved her hand down to kiss the inside of Blake’s palm, “Okay, I’ll marry you.” She lead Blake’s hand behind her neck then brought her own to rest on the woman’s slender waist. She dropped her forehead onto Blake’s, trying to take back the air she stole, “You don’t even have to ask me twice.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I've totally been putting this off for about a week now BUT in the process, other chapters are defs in the work. On that note, I'm hoping to ACTUALLY finish something this time around and it's looking like this is probably gonna be about 13 or 14 chapters long so... Bear with me guys and gals! Btw, I'm horrible at editing so there's that, too! lol
> 
> Just wanna take time to shout out and thank the folks who've been there for support and giving me advice to actually make this something decent to endure lol and to those who just take the time to read this, I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart! Thanks, lovelies!

Yang stood outside to take in some fresh air, stifled by the close proximity from Blake and her proposal. The slight breeze in the night’s serenity was opposite of that in the cabin. It was easy for her to be at home with the vast horizon as she once made the empty space her friend, she remained calm with the contact of its presence. The wind picked her loose locks in its rhythm and she closed her eyes to enjoy the reprieve from the heat she struggled with as of late. She assumed it was partially because her body was recovering from the wounds and the other… Blake, maybe?

Having been completely awake throughout the night, lost in the sudden reverie she fell through — down the obscured tunnel of endless thought provoking prompts. Her heart hammered in her chest, reminding herself of the pact she made with Blake to marry. Throughout her long lived years into adulthood and even passed her heavily bared youth, she never thought of such a drastic measure but since Blake showed her face into the sunlight of her dreams, the prospect of marriage became an actual idea.

She let the past conversation replay again and again, every detail sewed into her mind as if it were engrained into the wood she rested her forearms against. Blake declared they couldn’t pass off as married by word of mouth but to prove it with a license or some sort of documentation the union was legitimate. This was going to be a real event for her, even if it consisted of a few people as witnesses but the more she stewed on it, the more she was sure nothing tangible would come out of it. At a young age, after surviving the cross fire between her own parents, she always assumed she would only get married for love and not any sort of gain. But the more this plan sat on her mind, the more she believed this _was_ out of love — on her behalf. There was absolutely no denying she loved Blake but admitting it aloud to her could jeopardize Blake’s plan, even if she was along for the ride.

She heaved a breath of annoyance, eyes heavy and burning from exhaustion. The darkness didn’t help against how tired she felt but enjoyed the view of cloudless sky and the stars stippling across a black canvas. This was where she found peace — not only because of Blake but with herself. Quiet nights, aside from the rustling waves in the leaves and crickets playing their melody — allowed her the briefest sense of self amongst a head full of worry. She reached down to her tartan, an item her people were restricted from owning, rubbing the frayed edge as if the cloth alone would bring her solace and wisdom.

If they were to actually carry out the marriage, she wondered if she would be able to secure Blake a future and happiness. This was something she took seriously. Although she was never raised under strong branches of a committed relationship, she wanted everything in her mortal strength to be that person who breaks the chain; someone the other person could always rely on. 

Yang looked to the sky once more, neck tilted as far back as possible without an inkling of pain and inhaled deeply to take in the earth and aromas the wind carried with it. Somehow she tasted iron, like blood freshly shed and brought her head back down on the exhale. Sleep. She needed sleep. Perhaps her mind was playing games with her and it was the prelude to rest for the night. 

She pushed herself off of the smooth wooden fence and turned toward the pitch black cabin, evidence enough that the others were down for the night. As her feet carried her over the rocks encased in the dried dirt, she looked back to the horizon and nodded her head as if the distant hills gave her an answer. She was ready. This is where _her_ future lied.

~~~~~

Yang felt unease walking back through the town that tried to kill her. This time she made a promise to herself she wouldn’t step foot into the saloon based on her previous experience with the establishment. Risking her neck a second time would be suicidal at best. Today she wasn’t leaving Blake’s side. They were to look for a minister who would be open to ordain their marriage despite their mixed heritage. 

The church at the end of the shotgun road was the first place Yang caught as they entered. Stepping foot in a house of worship sent chills down her back. When was the last time she had been inside of one? Her early teens? Perhaps longer than that…

Energy radiating from the woman beside her, took her full attention — the feeling was mutual. Taking this step was probably the most difficult because it set their plan into action. Yang conquered the thin space between them by sliding her hand against the moist surface of Blake’s. Blake froze in her tracks by the simple gesture, a crease in her brow when she looked over to Yang — who offered  a soft smile as proof she was there for her. They were there for each other — through thick uncertainty and thin measure.

She felt the heavy stares from the onlookers, women halted their sweeping or stopped in their tracks as they passed and men projected judgmental eyes at the sight. Most of the residents already knew Blake was a Faunus regardless of the ribbon hiding her ears but the sight they were shocked with most was the fact two women had bonded themselves in such minimal intimacy. 

Blake kept her eyes to the ground, grip still tight within Yang’s — who lead them through the strip towards the white chapel. “It’s okay, Blake. Don’t let these people decide what’s best for us. I won’t leave your side for a second,” Yang pulled her closer into her orbit, blocking out the negativity casted upon them. All Blake could respond with was a shallow nod. “We’re almost there.”

Within minutes they approached the threshold of the church, Yang taking in the deepest breath of air tainted with dust — almost enough to make her choke. In her palm she could sense the sudden shift in Blake’s pulse and perspiration seeping out. She figured the sweat was contributed to her own emotions of the situation. She lead them up the stoop, pulling Blake along with her and through the open door.

The chapel was small, suffocating her with religious presence of a higher power she forgot existed except in her time of need when she prayed to see another day. She took off her sun-bleached hat out of respect for the clergy. Dust floated amongst the sunlight peering in, without little direction of where it landed. The smell of the old wood reminded her of spiritual awareness from when she was a child growing up in North Carolina, beads of sweat from this overwhelming sensation formed on her brow.

She stood tall for the both of them as they made their way to the center, sensing Blake shrink with the prospect of either rejection or even compliance. 

“Can I help you with something, my children?” A man in his mid fifties adjusted his clerical collar tucked into the black button down, sweat abundant from lack of fresh air and circulation. He held a smile and a shine in his dark eyes when he noticed the women’s hold on each other. “A prayer? Refuge perhaps?”

Yang could figure why he thought what he did. She looked disheveled in her stitched plaid shirt, stained denim and the aged had held in her left hand. As she looked, actually _looked_ at Blake’s appearance, her out-dated dress resembling that of a weather torn flag at the hem of the skirt, didn’t improve assumptions either. 

Before she could gather the right words to say, Blake took the reins of their interactions to her own accord. She lifted herself from being an apprehensive child to an assertive woman holding herself against authority. “I appreciate the gesture, Father but that’s not why we’ve come today,” her hand fell from Yang’s, shyly connecting to the other. “My name is Blake Belladonna and this is Yang. We actually came here today humbly seeking your blessing in being wed.”

The priest brought his palms together, fingers out toward them then rubbed his hands together, “That I cannot do, Blake. By doing so I would be committing an act of sin. As a lamb of our Lord, you should know that before walking into this house.” The smile never left his face despite having to give them an answer they didn’t anticipate on hearing.

Blake nodded knowing this outreach was a far-cry for what needed to be done. The only minister within nearly a hundred miles declined their request and she absolutely felt defeated. Her hopes of saving her clan dashed in an instant. “Thank you, Father. I appreciate your time.” She needed to leave before risking saying something disrespectful , which she was on the verge of. Taking Yang’s hand gave her the strength to hold onto to reason and lead her out the door.

“Ladies, wait!” The minister called back before they made it to out door. 

Yang turned first, brow cocked and dropped her hand from Blake’s desperate grip. The feeling of air cooling the sweat in her palm left her bare but for the sake of hearing what the man wanted to say, she displayed a sense of modesty. Blake, on the other hand, didn’t want to hear him out, back still turned to him with her eyes on the wooden planks under her feet that bowed under her weight.

“As much as I would like to, something like this is against my faith — against the church. There’s a man here in town that should be able to help you. His office will draw the paperwork and everything.” At the sudden reach to help, Blake turned towards him, expression visibly shocked. “His name is Lei, a china man. He’s the owner of the Livery by the General Store. Tell him why you’re there and he should be able to do something for you.”

Blake’s attitude toward the man made a one-eighty, smiling and thanking him as they left. Maybe there was hope after all.

~~~~~

“Hello?” Yang walked in first into the fresh smell of animal fodder and loud noises of those that are unruly. She pulled Blake in behind her as she looked around for the man they were sent for. They took in the small details of the space the further they made their way in, both covering their noses with their free hands masking the strong odors.

In the corner of the room Blake spotted movement, “Over there.” She took the lead to the person in question, her interest piqued. “Hello? Lei?”

The man continued without showing any signs of being disturbed, steadily working away. Blake looked back, shrugging her shoulders, Yang returning the same gesture but lifted her chin up for Blake to go on — which she did. Her breath caught in her throat as her heart pounded in her chest. As she got within ten feet of the man, she called again, “Lei?”

After the second attempt of drawing his attention, he finally looked up from the brush in his hands to the women in close proximity. He stood slowly from the pain being in a forward position for a period of time, brush set to the side on a partition as he gave them a perplexed look, “Who asks?” 

Yang glanced over to Blake, who seemed unsure of what to say. Lei’s expression was rather intimidating with his narrowed magenta eyes switching between them. Even Yang felt intensity through the stare. 

“This here is Blake and I’m Yang. We were sent to you because you might be able help us with something.”

Lei’s arms over his chest, muscle in his forearms carved from experience of a different life. Yang understood the difficulty in grooming horses from a rider’s point of view but never fully grasped the full context when it was day-in day-out work. “Something that no one else can, huh?”

“I suppose you could say that.”

“Then what is it?” His eyes narrowed slightly more with his probing.

“We were told you could officiate weddings… like, for us,” Yang gestured her hand from herself to Blake, keeping her facial features from showing any signs of an anticipated rejection.

A smile cracked on Lei’s lips, “I take it the Reverend wouldn’t do it for you?”

They both nodded in unison. “Typical old coot. And he sent you here as an act of charity, I gather.”

“I have coin if that’s what you’re insinuating — it’s not a problem whatsoever,” Blake piped hoping to entice the gentleman, hand reaching for the purse under her skirt and held it firmly in her hand. “However much you want, it’s yours.”

Lei appeared skeptical at first but studied how large the drawstring bag was barely able to fit in her hand. He reached over to her, taking the purse and bouncing it as if he weighed it in disbelief. “This is how desperate you’re willing to go to marry her? She must be worth it.”

A brief few seconds lapsed before she spoke, deciding if the actual truth would deter her plan that began to slowly come together. She glanced at an expectant Yang before giving her answer. “She is. It’s something we both want.”

With a grin on his face and a look of astonishment, he opened the sack, fumbling the coins around then retrieved five silver pieces before tying the bag to its original state, “I don’t want all of your money — just the standard fee.” The bag was tossed back to Blake who almost failed to react in time, barely catching the unstable item. “When do you want this to take place and where? We can even do it here if you’re in that much of a hurry.”

Blake deemed awestruck before looking at an even more dazed Yang to her right. She didn’t expect things to move as quickly as they were. A deadline needed to be discussed before hand but before she requested the blonde a moment to get their ducks in a row, Yang spoke up, “Saturday at noon. I can meet you here around nine and we can travel to the homestead. We have a friend who can witness.”

“No problem. I’ll have my apprentice tend to the horses so it shouldn’t be an issue,” Lei pocketed the coins then tapped the lumps on the outside of his denim. “If you have any doubts or one of you gets cold feet, I’ll return half of what you paid. Deal?” His hand reached out between them as a sign of equality. 

Immediately Blake took it without wanting to leave him hanging for too long, tanking him with a grip stronger than he initially expected, “Thank you, Lei. You have no idea how much this means to me.” She released giving Yang an opportunity to also express her gratitude.

“You’re welcome. And also, I’d rather you call me Ren.”

~~~~~

The rest of the week blurred into moments as Saturday rolled in. They told Ilia the day Ren accepted their need for an officiant. Blake seemed hesitant telling her at first thinking she would be furious by rushing into something so quickly when her past proved she was not someone who would jump into marriage at the drop of a hat. But once the details as to _why_ became apparent, she was genuinely on board with the union. Their tribe might’ve been in a past life but loyalty still genuinely remained in their hearts until they could breathe no more.

Yang tried, through multiple attempts, to see who’s name the other would possibly take. Unless that would be decided at the last minute. Each time she was shot down because Blake, who fell into her dismissive demeanor with each persistent try, shrugged off the inquires by rapidly changing the subject. Though it was real and was happening, Blake deflected how _real_ this really was. Yang ruefully understood why Blake holed herself inside through their last few days but found other ways to bring the subject up. This _needed_ to be brought to light to extinguish her piqued curiosity. In a way, she didn’t want Blake taking hers as it was a reminder of her own past she no longer felt bound to. Blake didn’t need to be tied to a different thread of violence. 

During their downtime away from mandatory chores on the property, Ilia assisted Yang with the arch made from miscellaneous branches from the trees, weaving them through the other until it could support itself. She was proud of how she, even after the years she abandoned her life in North Carolina, was still able to build instead of destroy. The years proved she was good at what she did and that was wrecking any sort of absolution for peace. Not just for those she surrounded herself with mostly for peace for the monster within. 

The Thursday before, without instigation, Blake blazed into the stable as an unsuspecting Yang was cleaning Gambol’s third hoof. The sway of her hips, arms swinging with the vigorous stride, a crease in her brow… 

Yang only turned her attention away when dragging footsteps honed in on her. She dropped the hoof then pinched her shirt so she could run it over the tip of her nose, freed from the vexing presence of sweat. “Everything alright?” She slowly erected herself as the strain in her back dissolved.

Blake halted a few feet from Yang, brow still creased and set her hands on her slender hips. If Yang didn’t know any better, she would’ve assumed the brunette was out for blood. Locked onto the fiery amber blazing onto her, she swallowed hard and deep, unsure what it was she did wrong. Blake huffed then shot a string of words at her, “You’re taking my last name.”

“That’s what this is about? You stormed in here to tell me _that_? Shit, I thought I did something wrong,” she laughed as if it were a joke. “You had me scared for a sec.”

Yang’s coy laugh didn’t help erase the irritation created through overthinking, “I just want you to stop asking me. So I thought I’d come and tell you so you would shut up and leave me alone about it.”

With a childish side grin, Yang forgivingly took Blake’s lips to her own, conveying how much this one step meant to her. It was a small step for her but an entire worldly bound for Blake’s fragile perspective. “Thank you” was all Yang could administer.

Friday night came in a rush, blindsiding all three of them the more they tried not to dwell on something so _transformative._ Blake relished the last few minutes of fading daylight before she was no longer _just_ herself. She was going to be married in less than twelve hours and instead of feeling dread like she assumed she would, she felt a strong sense of jubilation. Her chest swelled the more she thought about tomorrow and for once, she wasn’t afraid —  she was actually blissful this was happening. 

She remained seated on the steps, forcing what calming breaths she could relinquish, and watched the shadows giving themselves to the night. Her arms laid crossed over her knees as she allowed her boundless thoughts wither away. She tilted her neck to the stars, counting the constellations she remembered from so many years ago as a child. The moon was dim enough not to lay its overbearing illumination over the stars and as she scoured the sky she could point out the few she remembered. For some, she couldn’t remember the names to the cluster or vise-versa. But the more she tried to focus on the stars, the more quickly she gave up.

Blake felt Yang’s missing presence everywhere she went. She didn’t realize how much Yang had become infused in her life… She pined for the kissed Yang randomly surprised her with and the glint in Yang’s eyes when she laughed at one of her own jokes… She missed the sound of her voice — the Scottish overlay when she said particular words and even how her name had the same cadence when rolled off her tongue… She just missed her. There was a fine line she walked when it came to the blonde Scot and the more she yearned for Yang to be home tomorrow, not because of the wedding, the line thinned to nothing.

They decided she would stay in town the night before until the ceremony and ride with Ren back to the cabin. This was one of the traditions she wanted to battle Yang about. Not because it was for Yang’s sake but because she didn’t want to spend a night without knowing she was there. She had Ilia’s support that night but she wasn’t _Yang_. 

The thumping of boots on wood resembled nothing of Yang’s stride and heavy steps but was grateful her friend managed to take the time to sit with her. Ilia plopped beside her, mirroring Blake’s posture. She used her elbow to nudge her in the arm, “Hey.”

Blake smiled over to her friend, no signs of despair now that the day was officially over. “Hey,” her voice was soft but whimsical.

Ilia kept her attention on Blake, who seemed lost in her own world and with every right to be. She had already expressed to Blake how brave she was to be doing something like this to save their people from her former lover and the fact that Yang was the one she chose, she couldn’t be any more supportive with the decision than she was right now. Blake was basically her sister since childhood and following through with this would not make her love her any less. 

“You okay? Like, _really_ okay?” 

Blake snapped her attention to Ilia, eyes widened as if she were caught thinking about something she shouldn’t’ve, “Yeah! Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Ilia looked down between her boots as she toyed with a small rock, “It’s just… tomorrow’s a big deal. And I wanted to see how you’re handling this.”

“Surprisingly, I’m kind of excited about it. I mean, considering after what happened with Adam. I know she’s not him and that’s why… I actually can’t wait…” Her smile spread from ear to ear then looked away to the distance.

“As long as you’re okay with this then I am too,” Ilia reached over and gave Blake’s shoulder a firm squeeze in solidarity. She needed Blake to know that she was there for her now and always will be.

Blake crossed her arm over her chest to take hold of Ilia’s, latching onto the support of her friend whom she considered family through everything they went through together, “Thank you, Ilia. As long as you’re fine with this, then no one else’s opinion matters. You’ve always known what’s best for me even if I didn’t listen most times… your concern was always warranted.” Blake held on longer needing the warmth of her friend’s love. “I just want you to tell me if I’m doing something stupid right now…”

“I don’t think it’s stupid. I just think your dad is going to kill you.”

Blake smiled once Ilia pointed out the truth she’d rather ignore, “Let him. If he tries, he’ll have to go through Yang first.”


End file.
